Mention of the stars reduce us back,
|
They, about them, have time's things hanging;
|
We are around near the railroad track
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Checking out the thundering.
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Names you call could have been ours
|
To call and live among them;
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Friends come by and spend some hours
|
And then back down to working...
|
|
At night, things come and half a life,
|
Not so silly walking,
|
All different clothes in the half light
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And a halting way of talking.
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There really was one way to be,
|
Yet this is not it, we think,
|
To be such younger folk as we
|
Not levelled as we drink
|
|
We're busted up, so ragged down
|
And kissing and subsisting;
|
Our eyes glint wild and roll around
|
And the dog, he whines insisting,
|
He asks that we allow the sex
|
To make us unrecognizable;
|
That we allow slow violence
|
To prove us rebaptizable.
|
|
-----------------
|
More Brother Rides
|
| Will Oldham |
