By the time I made it to the Panhandle,
I was already in over my head,
a rascal from birth,
unearthing new mysteries.

There was really no such thing as love,
it seemed like it was all about the pleasure
taken in robbing me of some of mine.

No regrets here, it was not unkind,
it's just the way it was, the way
it's always been, I think.

Leaving trails of broken trust,
continuing onward toward the sinking sun,
throwing bitterness by the wayside,
next to folly & blowing like the wind,
the cold cold wind felt by broken hearts.