the story in these jeans is skin tight

it's the concrete dust from the rooftop you climbed

the first time you stayed up all night to watch the sunrise


it's the rhythm in dancing by yourself to the record on the stereo

and solitary night-time bike rides

just you and the wind and the road and the world flying home together


it's the footsteps from the has-been's 'til Now

the distance from The Old Country to Forever

60 000 tangled threads of human history growing up

and saying thanks mum and dad for your

chapter in this fabric


it's making out in the driver's seat

glowing under the headlights of passing cars

and the fist raised at the punk show like it's

all power to the people with face piercings


it's the devil and the details

the dye and the stitching

the assembly line wage-slave labour

and 5000 miles ending on a barcode


this is a story about life

worn thin


these jeans are everything i am

everything i have been