i stopped writing eulogy
after the moon lept from a single lane bridge by an old
grain elevator in southeast Minnesota
and lonely became my midnight dances in the street
singing to a pretty girl
no longer in the sky
with whom i'd only ever been quiet
boy, i had mind to cut that hand off altogether
there's a better word for this
after the moon lept from a single lane bridge by an old
grain elevator in southeast Minnesota
and lonely became my midnight dances in the street
singing to a pretty girl
no longer in the sky
with whom i'd only ever been quiet
boy, i had mind to cut that hand off altogether
there's a better word for this