Smog

Theres always some bird-dog
Snuffling, choking
Looking like you came to collect
Something you said you owed
Theres always some turtle snapping in my head
Saying you cant just waltz in here
Acting like nothing is wrong
No dancing, no dancing, no dancing
Not while the road is racing
No dancing, no dancing, no dancing
Not while the time is chasing
Theres a poacher on the land
I recognize his hand
In the mail
Hes fogging up the glass
The bird is on the last
And here he comes