the expanding shadows of my depleted day
stretch out like fingers
trying to gain purchase on my
fleetfoot soul
but the past is a parody of the now
with all the same actors playing different roles
and i know who will let me
slip unnoticed out the stage door
while the drunkard nightwatchman
sings sea shanties and laments the poorboy pay

out the door and up the alley
and skate along the thieves highway looking for treasures
with the maiden of dumpsterdivers in tow
she is carrying little red riding hood on a waitress's salary
but the two of em love eachother
so the three of us make scary bandit faces
and go on and on about how we don't
need no stinkin' badges
the alley treats us all to a few jems
and more stinky socks than a reformed
cheerleader like little red riding in the hood
can shake a stick at

by the time i shuffle back to
my home on the shooting range
don quixote had turned off the lights
and driven off in his VW bug
the band had packed its gear
and the bartender was three sheets to the wind
all i could do to mend my own fences
was sing old cowboy songs at a winter moon

fleetfoot to from the greasy lock of hair
to the itchy feet looking to travel
its all just another day under strange skies
we all got questions
but few got answers
i just got a pocket full of dust
and a pair of running shoes
so here i go....