Almost November, but the train left town a long time ago.

There must be something better than this tired beat down old rodeo.

Waiting on the winter, but the cold came a long time ago.

I can't be reliving young mistakes while I grow old.


Almost November, rails stretching much further than I can go.

I can feel the change in weather, but can't beat that smoking iron horse home.

Cold heart of this old sinner, leaning forward, shoulders low.

Given up on believing, past behind me, story told.


It'll soon be December, our hearts will grow colder.

Guess I'll keep this old jacket, and the bag on my shoulder.

Grow my hair long again, for when the cold wind starts blowing.

And it's you I'll be thinking of when the grey clouds start snowing.

r  Oct 2013

To sail to distant shore
To live again
Where two hearts soar
Sur le rivage lointain
Avec mon amour


r 18Feb14

I am like the leaves on the ground;
the bones in the grave,
Dead
As I sit as motionlessly
as a tall brown oak,
Eyes dark,
stormy weather,
Lighting strikes,
thunder booms,
A tear falls
I am alive again.

Let the sky fill up your bucket
Since you slept past noon
and said **** it
And I guess down the hall
is a good distance to avoid the catastrophicly wonderful anomaly
That scientific minds describe as a Shannonball
Recently discovered and rare
Now sitting next to me in a plastic chair, shelter from the sky that fills your bucket, and you slept past one and still said **** it