I sleep like a dead dog
In the front yard
Always making trouble
Living broken
As I always I come to this conclusion
As I always I come to your conclusion
As always

Would I sail a black sea for you
Only to slams against the rough coast

Would I sleep in the ditch drunk
Would I spit on his grave
And tongue my missing tooth in the back

I needed to walk two miles to your town
I hitch a ride on the back of a horse trailer

On your lawn mushrooms grow
Shining blue purple caps in the morning light

To ring your doorbell in the pouring rain
With the filter of gray clouds against the sun

*The feeling you get in your chest when thunder tumbles deeply somewhere nearby