The cost of living fast and lean
And getting what you're owed
Is feeling always in between
And strung out on the road

I sink into the motel bed
And stare up at a water-stain
I take a pill and rub my head
And listen to the rain

The blues and reds are easy meds
Embalming for my brain
They drive the creeping minutes out
I count the loss but gain

The easy buzz of Secanol
and bourbon brings me peace
One-hundred-forty minutes flat
A fleeting, sweet release

I run my fingers through my hair
Relaxed, as I come to
I lift the satchel off the chair
I've got a job to do

The headlights through the curtains
Trace a line across the floor
I pull them snugly closed and
Flip the deadlock on the door

Pull the slide and pop the spring
Wipe the action with a rag
Lubricate with kerosene
Reassemble, slap the mag

I shake the cardboard ammo box
The rounds are heavy, cold and clean
I flip them over, one by one
And press into the magazine

The sun is slowly rising though
I cannot see the light
As sure as I'm about to blow
Tonight will be the night.

As I hold you in my arms I search my
spirit for the perfect words to say
Take a snapshot in your mind of these
moments of contentment for they’ll
sustain you and they’ll surely pass away

We all are stuttered benedictions
Played out of tune Hosannas
Imperfect parts, through God made perfect, Whole
A sweet and subtle contradiction
Of power and mercy defines and refines Our souls

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, hailstones clatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand

More out of simple fear than hate
People will break your heart and later on
They will regret – but you will never know
Try to find your joyful duty
Like the one I found in you
And in your brothers, in your mother Long ago

Find the faith of our fathers
It’s the harmony and rhythm
Of your symphony and all you’ll
Leave behind
Seek out the pen-strokes
Of your composer, and the watermark within
First edition, signed

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, illusions shatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand

And as I put my pen to paper I hear your mother calling, calling-
Me to bed, to gather strength to fight and rest my weary head
To wage war with the world and with myself

Let the wind blow, let it move you on the ocean
Of yourself
Let the rains come, hailstones clatter but it doesn’t matter
It is well
Be slow to anger – for we are surely slow to understand
Lord knows, we are surely slow to understand

Once, in thirty summers past,
I walked in shadows, moonlit cast
And broke my daylong journey's fast
with sausage, honeymead and bread.

Then in among the piney trees
A sounding crash my nerves did seize
And set my rushing blood to freeze
A sounding crash to wake the dead

I stood at once and looked around
For what had made that terror-sound
and peering through the branches found
An old man working, felling trees.

Carefully, I wandered to
and brought the man back into view:
An ancient woodsman dressed in blue
with woodsmoke drifting on the breeze.

Silently, I stood there, lurking,
For a time, and watched him working
Then I hailed him, with that irking
He met me with an icy stare

He loosed his tongue and dropped his axe:
"beneath the stone and craggy cracks
slept the dragon Cathagorax
Grown old in years beyond his share."

Young Cantabridge the brave and fair
left his father's bedside care
And called to all who gathered there,
Who'll put their courage to the test?"

He cried to them, "I have a plan,
to **** this creature if I can,"
No other, single, mortal man
Would join him on his foolish quest.

And on his way, the young man going
the creature then, in dark ways knowing
Awaken-ed, his hatred growing
prepared his evil darkling cast.

Darkling words and phrases chanting
Screaming, shrieking, raving, ranting
And finally completed, panting
Settled to the ground at last.

Cantabridge stepped in the cave
his face afear-ed, grim and grave
A final warning cry he gave
among the icy water floes.

"Worm my father couldn't fell
******* steel and fly to hell!
Its ring will be your funeral bell
and bring your seasons to a close!"

Wings swept down and armor flashed
Claws rent flesh and hammers crashed
Contending sinews groaned and smashed
And formed a hymn of battle-cries.

Falling down, dank and muddy
Bodies broken, torn and ******
Each warrior turned to study
Each other's watchful, waiting, eyes.

Cantabridge, with strength afleeting
By darkling magic, heart un-beating
Realizing and retreating
His victory had turned to death.

He thrashed about, his body lying
Struggling and vainly trying
Against the magic, finally dying
and with that breathed his final breath.

And in my bed, awake and dreaming
I saw a vision of him, seeming
Like a ghost with armor gleaming
Lying dead and in the sun.

So here upon this piney tree
I hammered, ere I talked with thee,
And in the valley, I could see
The fun'ral pyre for his son

In the moonlight, by the river
I searched and in the night air shivered
and for the woodsman's son delivered
a single, wild, yellow rose.

So on that night, I stood and turned
and watched them while the pyre burned
For the warrior boy who'd learned
The darkling magic a dragon knows.

In between the silky stars
There is a silver line of cars
Watery scotch and cheap cigars
A dingy dive beside the road.

A ***** blonde beyond her years
Serves another round of beers
Crispy smile, the boss is near
Another sorry episode.

Whose place this is I think I know
His girlfriend's in the city though
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his bar fill up with smoke.

A man in greasy overalls
Strokes and chin and grabs his *****
I check the door and scan the walls
A heavy pistol in my coat.

Heart pounding now, this is my chance
I pull the gun out from my pants
and drop into a Weaver stance
Barking, for the money - now.

A shotgun blast, the sound of sand
A searing pain inside my hand
Without the strength to run or stand,
I stagger to the parking lot

I drop the keys and pull the door
Just another minute more
I've got to stop the bleeding or
Another minute's all I've got

Pale flourescents pierce the night
Mosquitos buzzing round the light
Tiger, tiger burning bright
Hell on Wheels, that's what we say

I fish the keys up off the ground
start the engine, turn around
and limp away without a sound
And live to fight another day.