you'll drink the night away
and forget about everything
after a day of landscaping until
the Texas sunset makes you tired
of speaking Spanish.
the city desert makes you
feel so cold -
cold as the walls you stared into
after your tornadoes of rage got the best of you
while you would daydream of when the sky would
melt into the dream bars your kids would run to after
you've told them to stay off the street
he's got that look on his face
as he's writing a "who cares",
surrounded by a Christmas morning of
letters from loved ones -
questions of a neglectful closure flood your mind -
Mansfield is a no-man's field.
some quiet little town
was a dream he could only manifest
out west -
rolling stones keep rolling
until they lose track of a drunken,
intoxicated time -
a time where i could have met you.
it's eerie they say when listening to Little Wing -
you're supposed to sound just like him
the same series you'd get
seeing the same Gemini glimmer in your eye -
from listening to a poem written in a prison -
passive-aggressive love letters,
and the promise of coming out a new man...
and when you wake up it's a new morning
the sun is shining, it's a new morning
and you're going, you're going home.
