i'll use this shovel
to find the truth
i will bring the story out of the ground
i'm busy chasing circular thoughts
working long hours
but sleeping, i'm not
television and prescription pills
by the poison in this bottle my
blues will surely be killed
once it's gone
pour me another round
i'll get up and come back to life
i will scatter my notebooks
across your shadowy lawn
we can read and breathe and burn them
long into the dawn
i will never believe what someone else
tells me is true


except you.