Ain’t it a sinking feeling, up to your ankles in scattered amber
Thick mire, pulling you in to savor the times
Soaked from a missed jump, hooked to a tree at the knees
Worn glass that just won’t break
Bowling for the old town
Made it to the very top, the sky gave a 21 gun salute
To stained shoes and hands, not a spot untouched
Of sloppy mind and simple pleasure
The same movie over again
Two ordinary pals on a river bank, howling and spilling spirits
Momentary departure in the midwest
A hearty slap on the back, smiling nods from the grizzled
A life's prospect in one afternoon, stuck in the mud
Our annual glimpse of the promised land, the warmth of two
They all can see it in our eyes
The great escape