Teddy Roosevelt was shot under his heart

Yet he told the crowd mobbing the shooter

To stand back, do not hurt the man

And I like to think that’s what I’m going to do for you

When you shoot an arrow through my chest.

There is ice frozen on my windshield

And every time I play a CD in the cold it skips

Like the tone of your voice

And I wonder what those friends are doing

But then I remember that I don’t really care

Because compassion doesn’t mix well with alcohol

And if I have to sit in another bathroom with pale yellow tiles I think my head will crack

Just like the porcelain seat you slammed your head against

And I’ll fall short of sympathy.

We’ll never find our glory in stained carpets and shaking hands.

I think I’ve started to get wishbones and backbones confused

Because my wishes are buried in the crevices of your spine and now

I hold on to both ends of the wishbone to guarantee success

And maybe that’s why I’m only lucky half the time.

I’ve gotten repetitive repetitive repetitive

And I have gotten faulty with my words

And this is beginning to sound like a tragedy.