The “Priest” They Called Him William S. Burroughs & Kurt Cobain

"Fight tuberculosis, folks"
Christmas Eve, an old junkie selling Christmas seals
On North Park Street
The "Priest" they called him
"Fight tuberculosis, folks"

People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall
It was getting late and no money to score
He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife
Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight

Boy got out with a suitcase
Thin kid in prep school clothes
Familiar face, the Priest told himself
Watching from the doorway

"Reminds me of something a long time ago"
The boy, there, with his overcoat
Unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare
The cab drove away and turned the corner
The boy went inside a building

"Hmm, yes, maybe," the suitcase was there in the doorway
The boy nowhere in sight
Gone to get the keys, most likely, have to move fast
He picked up the suitcase and started for the corner
Made it, glanced down at the case
It didn't look like the case the boy had or any boy would have
The Priest couldn't put his finger on what was so old about the case
Old and dirty, poor quality leather and heavy
Better see what's inside