Famous Blue Raincoat

I've been waiting for the end of December to post this:

It's 4 in the morning
the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living.

There's music on Clinton street all through the evening
I hear that youre building your little house deep in the desert
you're living for nothing now

I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Jane came by with a lock of your hair, she said that you gave it to her the night htat you planned to go clear.
Did you ever go clear?

Oh, the last time we saw you, you looked so much older. Your famous blue raincoat was torn at shoulder. You'd been to each station to meet every train, and you came home without little Marlene.


Blah blah, you know the song, you've read the words. I think that whenever I do begin to write, it will be this song that perhaps fills me with inspiration. Ever feel like everything awesome has already been done and you have little to contribute?