Bird

I can't stand it when other people put poetry in their blogs, I will try to stop doing it. This one totally rocks, though.


Bought my soul from the candy-man, he had one laying around
Wrapped it in wax paper and I took it out on the town
I lied about my cigarettes and the whiskey in my car
And sixteen years of chasing falling stars.
You can't tell the difference if it's freezing cold
Or hot enough to fly your hot dog back
Tennessee don't remember me and I can't remember you.
I reckon there are worse things you could do.
You could hold my hand and tell me not to talk so loud
About the little man pulling levers inside of me
Touch your hair when your feeling scared of my pilgrims plow
And apologize for my useless fantasy.

Lost my soul in Black Mountain, 'twas a sight to behold
Five hundred miles from Nashville with a soul shot full of holes.
I wept openly over antifreeze and problems with my car
I lost the trail of the tail of my rising star.
You never know what trash will blow across the open road,
And when the crowd shows up, what they're going to smoke.
Memories that are pissed at me 'cause I don't know 'em by name,
But I guess that's test of the best of the troubador game.
You won't get far from here if your map is too clear.
If you understood my story it was badly told.
I don't fear a couple more years of grinding gears
And letting go of whatever I happen to hold.