Maybe that's why they said we just drifted away
the boats of friendship
wood can't handle the water anymore
And breaks
Leaving chips on the shoulders of waters in peoples own lakes
(this is where someone's lake meets the rivers)
and the chips carry on
forever
till someone cleans the water
I have too many chips in my shoulders
I'm a sculpture made of Georgia red clay,
With those chips,
waiting for it to rain so I can fall into pieces on the ground into mud,
waiting for rednecks to have a mud marathon in my own self,
getting them dirty in melted liberalism,
My god,
it's never been so beautiful
to get my hair wet in the rain,
Only this time,
I'm not worried about my curls knotting back up.