thinking of rain boots in the snow
thirsty dogs around, licking up the puddles on the inside
was told the slide was off, but it sounded good to me.
brought the piano up on the final draft
that nashville song really turned into something
the hands smashed in the crash.
cutting up that bird at five a.m. had to be written down
boyish crushes and the scraps in the yard
sing this one for the cooks...to the cooks!
already praying for help, the blues again
jefferson would likely answer with a question
civil war stories, when being a winner was tough.
been everywhere in the world with a gun or a machete
pure revenge and eye for eye, the tooth takes it's flesh
a horn, like a tuba or a trombone, is missing.
nonfiction is dominate, but not absolute
slide player plays mandolin too, an old mandolin
the tag on the end, from the leprechaun's mind.
guy clark talking songs, preacherman by the end
serving strategies down the middle, painting the line
view from the moon, the helium view.
between good ole days and the end of the world
say old men who lived their lives and have regret
it's their end of the world and they were good ole days for them.
this is our time.