The decedent was in perfect health
As all our tox screens show.
No visible wounds,
No blunt force trauma,
Believe me, We would know.
A “Dear John” letter
Found near the corpse
revealed that she would go.
The coroner ruled
that loss of Love
had proved the fatal blow.

Playing songs to empty chairs
Taking bows when no ones there
We're on the road to famous town
But, no one really cares

House parties, and the legions
Around town and the region
We're on the road to famous town
But, no one knows we're there

One day we'll make it to the top of the mountain
They'll know our name and all will know our songs
It takes a while but we all have the vision
To be the best, so we will sing our songs
Our fans all scream for us to sing them for 'em
We'll reach our hall of fame one day
We'll play Ryman Auditorium
And when we do ....just listen to us play

Years of clubs and small time tours
Opening for kids half our age
We've walked a million miles
Just walking out on stage

A chance comes down the turnpike
Get recorded at a show
The Nashville people hear it
We're on the radio

Requests to sing our single
Come so fast, we take them all
We're no longer the shows opener
We're the top bill at the hall

More music and more albums
Larger tours and tv shows
We don't sing to empty bars no more
We're the name everyone knows

One day we'll make it to the top of the mountain
They'll know our name and all will know our songs
It takes a while but we all have the vision
To be the best, so we will sing our songs
Our fans all scream for us to sing them for 'em
We'll reach our hall of fame one day
We'll play Ryman Auditorium
And when we do ....just listen to us play




It's been twenty years in coming
We're an overnight success
We've climbed on up the mountain
You know where we go next...

An invitation to the Ryman
The Country Music Hall of Fame
A show where greats are thought of
And everybody knows your name

But, now...we still are playing
To our fans in bars, saloons
But, one day we will be famous
The Ryman...we'll be there soon

Dandelions thrash to the opening chorus of rattle clank by the chain links
yellow heads bobbing
tussled mops of white ****** back defiantly into the wind
until they lean against one another
exhausted and bald

Foxtails sway
feathered limbs thrumming
raised in the air like they just don't care
drumming to the beat of highway traffic
never alone
but gathered together in tight clusters
wary of outside influence

Thistles nod to smoother tunes
the conservative hemming in the edges
seeming almost out of place
until they throw down with their true colors
sporting mohawks in ever shade of purple

The show ends with deep shades of night
falling like a curtain to quiet the floral concert

Until dawn when the show goes on

maybe you can feel me,               the clunk
in my chest                                    in yours

the drop                                    
                                                       in your
                                                        diaphragm

maybe you can see it,                   seeing
my eyes open as open                  your
                                      ­                 eyes
                                                

maybe you can hear it,                is
the hum inside my                       from your
                                                       mouth


maybe you can think me            as I
                                                       think
  ­                                                     you

The trees in the painting have dancing hands,
        they're zombies for the future.
It's physically moving but I don't know how
        Because it isn't, but it so obviously is.
Neon lights blink at me,
        Singing the buzzing of a bubblegum melody.
Streaming eyes, screaming laughter.
Examine me.
Clinging to your lips like a cigarette.
We're in a perfect atmosphere,
     living in a perfect scene.
You're the king of the Starlite Motel,
     and I get to be the queen.