The Postal Service - Such Great Heights

Smeared black inkYour palms are sweaty.I'm barely listeningto last demands.I'm staring at the asphalt wonderingwhat's buried underneath.Where I amWhere I amI wear my badge.A vinyl sticker with big block lettersadhering to my chest.It tells your new friends,"I am a visitor here.""I am not permanent."The only thingkeeping me dry isIt seems so out of contextin this gaudy apartment complex.A stranger