well he's back from the rig he says,
heels up in dragon's blood
crept through denver at an easy pace, left his soul
on the toolcase, packed up with the coveralls
said there's never room for that--
and he sleeps while he's wide awake, said he
left his love up there, said he'll be by, but he ain't coming back
where back is home or here or me, he's spinnin'
i'm grounded, i'm looking for his strings,
he's unwound, divided and callin' my name--
used to kneel by my bedside, hold my hand around 10 at night
smelled like pine and cold wind, but you'd never tell him that
and I wonder about the longevity of his trust
the miles left in those long legs,
If I've all but said too much
to keep him runnin' from me
well he's stained by the deaths of many
and I've them locked away, makin' sure there's no anniversary
where he'll drink the funerals away,
we're both troubled by the other's demons
but his don't scare me much,
just play things and shadows all rearin' their heads
his own chorus of voices tellin' him it should have been him
and he sleeps while he's wide awake, said he
left his love up there, said he'll be by, but he ain't coming back
where back is home or here or me, he's spinnin'
i'm grounded, i'm looking for his strings,
he's windin', drawing fangs and ready to flee
to show me how fast he can run away, and he can
probably will, out of spite, out of fear--
and if timing is everything like he fancies it is
i'll be here waiting like i promised i would
'cause he'd hold my hand at ten at night
before i'd wait for the sound of that engine
pullin' up,
him whispering pretty girl
to wake me up,
hey, pretty girl
hey pretty girl
hey, pretty girl.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC
well he's back from the rig he says,
heels up in dragon's blood
crept through denver at an easy pace, left his soul
on the toolcase, packed up with the coveralls
said there's never room for that--
and he sleeps while he's wide awake, said he
left his love up there, said he'll be by, but he ain't coming back
where back is home or here or me, he's spinnin'
i'm grounded, i'm looking for his strings,
he's unwound, divided and callin' my name--
used to kneel by my bedside, hold my hand around 10 at night
smelled like pine and cold wind, but you'd never tell him that
and I wonder about the longevity of his trust
the miles left in those long legs,
If I've all but said too much
to keep him runnin' from me
well he's stained by the deaths of many
and I've them locked away, makin' sure there's no anniversary
where he'll drink the funerals away,
we're both troubled by the other's demons
but his don't scare me much,
just play things and shadows all rearin' their heads
his own chorus of voices tellin' him it should have been him
and he sleeps while he's wide awake, said he
left his love up there, said he'll be by, but he ain't coming back
where back is home or here or me, he's spinnin'
i'm grounded, i'm looking for his strings,
he's windin', drawing fangs and ready to flee
to show me how fast he can run away, and he can
probably will, out of spite, out of fear--
and if timing is everything like he fancies it is
i'll be here waiting like i promised i would
'cause he'd hold my hand at ten at night
before i'd wait for the sound of that engine
pullin' up,
him whispering pretty girl
to wake me up,
hey, pretty girl
hey pretty girl
hey, pretty girl.
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
you like all those country songs that tell stories. So here's your own.
