Mud, whiskey, death
and bad debts, the river's
high water, mysterious birds
flying south disappearing
like a youngest daughter,
no good men, bad intentions,
changing seasons, unexplained
pains, all of these are reasons
I've seen good women weeping
after the hardest rains came.

Time is a witness
to the mark of the moth
in my hair, and I swear
the nights are getting longer

I keep putting it off
hoping I would discover
a star no one knew was there

and I can only wonder why
the bluebirds die
on the power lines singing

if god had a heart
he'd take me instead
and put a thirty ought six
straight through my chest

just for believing
that somewhere there's a nest
with my name on it.

youve missed all the shots you didnt make
and youve taken all the shots you can take
now youre down on your knees
breathing hard
hardly believing
that you havent even started the race yet
yet theyre taking bets on your final time
when they can cross you out with a finishing line
as your heart all but beats out of your chest