Dying Fires

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the low lonesome sound

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We told old stories with the details rearranged
Cover up those bad tattoos but the old ink still remains
High roads and muddy trails that'll lead you back around
Short cuts and dead ends for the mole in the stony ground
Up on the hill beneath the green grass and the grave stones
Nothing left of flesh and blood but the alabaster bones
Oh, the things you never say leave you
Whiskey drunk and spinning screaming salt into the waves
These are the things you can only learn by watching fires die in the early dawn
Scribbled calculations to account for the missing parts
It's hard to know what you're dealing with when you can't see both eyes of the jack of hearts
And you know that the darker side of things is probably about same as the one you see
But every now and then that's ok, I too have a little wilderness
These are the things you can only learn by watching fires die in the early dawn
Went to bed a wolf and woke up shivering in fleece pajamas
As a clean white snow turned back to a dirty rain
Spent the last of the night on the screened-in porch
And watched those trees rattle back and forth
In an ink blot Rorschach symmetry just smudged on the coming dawn
And I left
Apex eyes from the side of the road and the day old coffee crawling down your throat
Sky up above getting heavy with things that want to feed on you
Left arm the color of a wheat-back cent if I had nickels for the minutes I've spent
Driving all day trying to trade old quarters for shiny shiny dimes
Fish belly clouds and electric light I don't think I'm going to make it home tonight
Lost in the worn out crease of a folded map on fire

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