Against the Tides

Ten years devoted to this life, maybe more. From my teenage days of breaking glass, cutting class and getting drunk in public restrooms to this, and it all looks so much the same.
I've got more ink and more scars, the look in my eyes is a little harder, but thats about all thats changed about me.
I'm a  lifelong rebel, born into a family of outlaw bikers and crooks, I never had a chance. Some friends say that even cleaned up theres still something different about me.
I sure as hell aint gonna be mistaken for no goddam choir boy, not with the scar running from my nose to my upper lip a souvenior from a long ago fight.
I've been hustlin dope since I was a kid, I learned how to weigh dope before I learned how to read a tape-measure, while you were going to prom, I was going to court.
Its been a hard life, full of loss and lonely times, been mostly on my own since I was thirteen, couch hopping at various friends and relatives, all my possesions in a back pack and that mostly clothes, maybe a cd or two or a worn out book.
I've been with an ungodly number of women, mostly shallow encounters that left me feeling more alone than I did before.
I'm always honest, I warn them i'm a nomad, and that I live outside the boundaries of society,but they fail to understand.
That is until I have to dip out real quick with a car full of hot guns and dope to stash before the cops come with a warrant. Then it becomes real to them, the fact that if my luck runs out, then our date-night might be crashed by cops, guns drawn and barking orders at both of us.
Thats usually when the romance ends and they go back to their safe little world of gossip and shopping malls, leaving a nasty taste like sulfur and disgust in my mouth as they go.