Vocals and guitar:
Piano instrument:
Guitar instrument:
15
Root beer and Him
Exit the program: what’s she
doing to me? what am i, for
that matter, doing to myself?
Go, then, in a different direction
seek solace and peace of
mind. telling myself, sadly
what i want to hear—or am
i, then, on to something?
Expand your horizons, be
privy to the both of us
little boll weevil and his son
running from creation
have a stroke at any time
death and damnation—fill
up the tub. recite Chevy
Chase—aka the hunting
of the cheviot; censor
the towel and the cigarette
mixing root beer and Him
I look up to you, honey,
don’t you ever forget that
love story that will make you
blind—grow hair on your
palms, my acne is back
lying to myself—in spite of
His tune: the woman i love
is coming for me soon—
looking in, then, through
the window—they’re eating
fried chicken; fine without
me, this itch in my throat
impotent cigarette, drives
me to the edge of despair,
wondering how come I can’t
be everywhere; i want to
be the greatest artist
that ever lived—think i’ll do
it for you as long as i live
going on a hundred, idle
hands off the cuff and up his
sleeve; the way i feel about
you is unlikely to change:
adrenaline woman reporting
this—our conversation
making a home out of
the open range—ranch hand
you’re not wanted,
rattlesnake in my house
go to heaven to get drunk
this version of my spouse
the house lives and breathes
angel is, for now, a miracle
outnumbered ten to one
hardly any income
My government won’t let me
be what I am: hardly a charlatan
we don’t give them a damn