The Big Gundown

...and did i mention that there are still those days

where i can hardly lift my head up from the pillow

or looking out the window of the plane

rooting for disaster

sometimes i just run out of reasons

but the clock keeps ticking and the minutes keep coming

and all i can do is rise to slaughter the hours

let the air out of these days

killing time

staring into corners or at strands of her hair

waiting for the call that tells me where to next

wishing i could trade these stupid words

for hollow point shells

before every move that I make equals check-mate

did i just say her?

this song is not for her

no matter what i've said or longed for

or that her name still moves along these walls

lives in this pen

(i've made promises)

this song is for Buk, for 'Trane, for Wes, and for Marty

who keep their barrels oiled and ready

the few that I would trade ten days to spend one hour with

rare like a ruby at the bottom of the sea

beautiful like the sparrow in the kittens jaw