Good Friends, Bad Habits

I’ve good friends with bad habits
What am I to do?
Literary romantics
They fuck like Wilde and indulge like Hemingway
I’ve good friends with bad habits
And a tendency towards negligence
Just petty thieves and addicts who don’t hurt anyone
But they’ll burn anyway
Sometimes, like every time a train passes
I get jealous of the long nights
The blurred lights
The red eyes and bar fights
The «Where in the hell am I?
And how did I get here with one shoe?
And which way to the nearest train?»
Sometimes, Like every time she breathes
I embrace my routine
I’ve good friends with bad habits
What’s a boy without a voice to do?
Literary romantics
They fuck like Wilde and they’ll die like Hemingway