Dum
Da da dum
Da da duuuuuum

Just outside a month
And twenty five days further from
A widower will take his life
Neither the body, nor the name will be known
A person, a being, who in the next year or so
Perhaps notorious of
Blood feuds, bank heists, and back alley exploits
Will be pure future myth
With talks of

In the soon to be abandoned old pick up truck of theirs
A gallon of gas with room to be half
Will spill out onto the cold, black
A quarter to four in the mornin'
Asphalt
Green-yellow dregs of diesel will ease their way down the vehicle

A Friday with fog will roll in from the west
A dog, a mutt perhaps
Will sniff its way past the front end of the tree trashed truck
The motor will jolt in and out of its normal sequence
In discordant chugging pitter-patter accordion metal-licks of ruckus
Like in the days to come
Death's canine will want an impression
Of his master's woodwork
With barks of

After all that I will have been through
And 'fore I will have known your name
And after all I will have done for you
You will have dug yourself a shallow grave
A shallow grave
A shallow grave
A shallow grave