When my shaky voice slips from the tiller to the ground will my crooked Row still bear any fruit? I’m a trail of emotion a broken bottle in the ocean. When I make sense of me can I introduce myself? Tell her what I mean, mean just what I say and spell it out before somebody else does? Because there’s something in her eye gonna make me lie just a little something in her smile gonna make it true. And if I empty my chest of the best words I’m holding maybe she’ll fill in the rest. It’s like I found her in Time magazine where they caught and slowed her down between the pages and I’m trying to start her up again. We then hurry out the door to the airport we’re never heard from again but the necessary words won’t escape my lips. Because there’s something in her eye gonna make me lie just a little something in her smile gonna make it true. And if I empty my chest of the best words I’m holding maybe she’ll fill in the rest. It’s far more elegant to get lost in the telling and waste your time getting to the point. The story ain’t a lady to be married and settled down. She prefers the view from a distant edge of town. And all her gardens rows or won by stubbing of her toes against the stones are enemies have thrown. And all her perfect edges float like cursive birds in flight. And I know better than to dare and call her mind. Because there’s something in her eye gonna make me lie just a little. Something in her smile gonna make it true. And if I empty my chest of the best words I’m holding maybe she’ll fill in the rest. So here we go.

There comes a time and each and every old life. “Is she the one? Is she for fun or is she for searching eyes?” “Is he a 10 is he a 9, 8, 7, or 6? or is he a pile of oddly weird-shaped bricks?” Stands in the window a perfectly lifeless window nothing inside, nothing behind, nothing for searching eyes. They’re teething, believing perfection is stitched the width of those manikin's clothes. Despite my love of falling, I’m not falling in love. I’m spinning around in circles in my mind. I’m only chasing her eyes down the road. I’m chasing, chasing the glow. I’m not telling a history. I’m diagnosing a misery but I ain’t no doctor and she ain’t no nurse and we aren’t healing anyone tonight. I got the case of the twitching eyes-a stumbling tumbling mind and a sneaky disguise. Cause I’m a believable but leave-able friend - asleep in the shadows wearing a halo for a one-night stand. Despite my love of falling, I’m not falling in love. I’m spinning around in circles in my mind I’m only chasing her eyes down the road. ’m chasing, chasing the glow. Believe me! You’re next in the line. Till next time I’ll leave this behind. Cause I don’t keep track of my wondering eyes. So keep smiling a while. So speaking my mind is a dance. But where do I put my hands? I’m not writing choreography for other people’s romance. Cause I’m only trained in a runaway love, believe me, relieve me, then leave. Despite my love of falling, I’m not falling in love. I’m spinning around in circles in my mind I’m only chasing her eyes down the road. I’m chasing, chasing the glow.

There you go. Drunk again. There you go. Drunk again. You made a promise to your mom. You made a promise to your dad. Practically born in a church. But you won't let that hold you back. When she walks like that When she walks through the fire lets you hold her hand lets you unzip her dress but you know better I know Jesus has his plans. You've been howling all the way like a hound on a trail. And I know you've been asking what's he got for you. You the side attraction - Samson Get yourself in line take a number. You a lamb for the slaughter. Couldn't help it if you tried When she walks like that When she walks through the fire lets you hold her hand lets you unzip her dress but you know better.

As a child I was taught to take a turn and move along. "Let someone else have a try." And I have taken so much life out of the ground. It's only fair to watch this old body break down. "It isn't sad it's only right" But the question remains: has there ever been a thing that's ever been mine? When all of the walls that I have constructed to keep myself sane are eroding and rusting and all the bric-a-brac to compare with the prizes I lack barely ever even kept the lights on bright enough. They did and they didn't I grew up on a quiet country block where the railroad ties built the spines of a dinosaur's back. My mother and I would sit silent on the porch, accustomed to the wars of midwestern thunderstorms. The TV told us the lies to forget and father would tell me the times to look away but my tiny eyes found a pile of dirty magazines at my best friend's house on the fourth of July. And if Rome wasn't built in a single day, how did those walls appear overnight? They did and they didn't They did and they didn't They did and they didn't From time to time bored out of my mind I would plan my escape to another universe. Imagining life on another odd planet - a lonely little rock just a shadow in the sky like Indiana roads - potholed with rubbery round pebbles and lava it bubbles like an alien shore where I was laughing at gravity a boy on my brother's bicycle outstretched my feet hardly touch the ground. They did and they didn't They did and they didn't They did and they didn't But I've got all I wanted I've got all I wanted I've got all I wanted But has it ever EVER been enough/ So lately I've been wondering about Daniel. What if he'd been born in that Lion's Den? He would have been one of them. One of the family. He would have been used to the women and the wine. Whenever the home team crossed the line, would he have hesitated? Proposing a toast at every touchdown and every field goal. Kissing a girl to his left. Kissing a girl to his right. Would he throw a token in the pool of a god on the way home to his second wife? "Get me home safely" Would he pray? "Get me home unscathed. Get me home to the woman I love before the next one gets in my way." Oh I wonder. Could even Samson pull his weight? If he'd been born that way? He did and they didn't He did and they didn't He did and they didn't

I still love you so I'll write you a letter. But I don't trust you so I'll make this a chore. I'll assemble the words into infinite paper airplanes, let them fall like mana on your doorstep. Could I come over to your home tonight? Lay you down and open you up? Take out my notebook and copy your lines and every angle in the fading lightning? When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. Yeah, it scares me when you show up like this. But it bores me to suffer your riddles. You tell me I place second to your divinity but I'm playing my part too well. And this is old hat as all get out. Fire and brimstone and marching armies. You go scaring the kids into loving the light but When the morning comes it will be your turn. To question everything. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. On the outside this looks like a bridge collapsing On the inside it feels like a tempo change. But either way I hardly notice the distant shoreline for the rain and the cursing lightning. Another marriage is falling apart. Another government against the ropes and all the kids are out dancing in the pouring rain and not a one of them has got the sense to quit and shut up. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. I still love you so I'll write you that letter. Since we're too old now to even come to the door. You were the light in the clouds and the color in the trees: So lovely but never the same.

In the garden of the parsonage. You were the preacher in the pot grove, singing "take your pick" Like a chorus of a hymn When she met you at the crossroads. Empty as a belly in a grocery of choices In your liturgy of options. She was just a number. Dying at the hands of love. Driving along a brokedown river bend Drowning with your fingers crossed old bridges on the mend while your only ship is lost. See the lining of the parking lot. Melting in the summer sweat. But what's the harm of fading out if each one owns a spot. In the asphalt cemetery. Stoplight Christmas trees. Is your cotton turned to cobwebs? Silver lining faded like pearls in a pawn shop. Dying at the hands of love. Driving along a brokedown river bend Drowning with your fingers crossed old bridges on the mend while your only ship is lost. But she would rather a stormy sea to the hooker's bed of dreams. She would rather hold your lines like the wrinkle in her palms. Meet the author of her Psalms. Hear the ringtone when you call. Be the garden where she falls Dirty hands connecting in the tissue of a song. Dying at the hands of love. Driving along a brokedown river bend Drowning with your fingers crossed old bridges on the mend while your only ship is lost. That was what I would have said to you But it's all I ever say to me. I was drunk and I was tired. Sick and spinning in the kitchen. It was a dark and muddy brew that was bleeding in my bones. But who knew what was bleeding in you? Who knew what was bleeding in you?

Here in the city the lights will follow you home Like there’s a prize for letting them show who you are: honest, proud, but afraid you’ll let them get in your way. Their night overshadow your day. But Constance be sure as the fire, belligerent and stuck up as the dawn. “Ushers help the tired old moon off the stage. He’s just a keeper of old facts promises and delicate pacts-cigarette ash on his slacks “ So go and lead the life you want good shining bright for your neighbors, haters catching their debtors and they fight you on your way back home to them. Let them take what they can. Out in the country the lights will meet you at home with the in-laws-airing out your lovers old sheets all their past and future crimes are right where they hang them on the line in the yard where you’ll bury the dog when he dies. So go and lead the life you want good shining bright for your neighbors, haters catching their debtors and they fight you on your way back home to them. Let them take what they can. Ode to Geology with her lines in the sand Her makeup ruined by tears Cause they can’t find her man My queen your smile is enough reassuring as the touch The orphan holds his inheritance again. So go and lead the life you want good shining bright for your neighbors, haters catching their debtors and they fight you on your way back home to them. Let them take what they can.

I still love you so I'll write you a letter. But I don't trust you so I'll make this a chore. I'll assemble the words into infinite paper airplanes, let them fall like mana on your doorstep. Could I come over to your home tonight? Lay you down and open you up? Take out my notebook and copy your lines and every angle in the fading lightning? When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. Yeah, it scares me when you show up like this. But it bores me to suffer your riddles. You tell me I place second to your divinity but I'm playing my part too well. And this is old hat as all get out. Fire and brimstone and marching armies. You go scaring the kids into loving the light but When the morning comes it will be your turn. To question everything. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. On the outside this looks like a bridge collapsing On the inside it feels like a tempo change. But either way I hardly notice the distant shoreline for the rain and the cursing lightning. Another marriage is falling apart. Another government against the ropes and all the kids are out dancing in the pouring rain and not a one of them has got the sense to quit and shut up. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. When it all comes down. It's probably going the other way. I still love you so I'll write you that letter. Since we're too old now to even come to the door. You were the light in the clouds and the color in the trees: So lovely but never the same.