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Bonnie and Clyde finally died,
time is the only sheriff in town that catches everybody.
They were busted in Old Age, trying to rob the word bank
and went down in a hail of disease, their medicine cabinets teeming with unease.
They make you say please, oh they make you say please, please, please
even when you're on your knees, they make you say please, please, please, please.
The ghost of Clyde is sneaking peaks at fate but made the final decision to leave it where it lay.
Oh he's no poltergeists, no he's not banging shelves at night.
Bless the mess and fuck the rest, making figures of speech but tell me who is to blame for the fuzz on your giant peach?
And Bonnie is still a baby with a boner for the beach but even the sea and shore have to reach to touch each other, they touch each other, they touch each other but they're also discrete.
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3. |
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Driving fast on broken glass past Slaughter Ln.
What kind of name is that for a place anyway?
They say all a man really has is what's right in front of his face,
I guess in my case that would be a highway.
So don't you go cryin' 'Johnny, come home!"
All the things I left behind are long gone
and even if I had a choice--which I don't--
I don't miss my old cell.
No, I much prefer the road.
So don't you go screamin' 'Johnny, come home!'
It's just like Leonard said, 'these frontiers are my prison.'
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4. |
Day of the D-g
04:21
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'All the "been there" and "done thats" are cutting my throat.'
Well I wouldn't want to kiss it back together again,
I'm no king nor have I ever been any King's man.
Oh but somewhere I know this is a place I've never been before--
no dismal apartment--we moved out of our apartments long ago.
We started packing when we met but left all of our boxes behind
with the first kiss.
Now I'm awake but I still know sleep wouldn't really hurt this.
Its been a fucked up day, my family dog died and now my family is buried along with it
under a tree in a field with a birdhouse hanging over from a limb
but its hardly a memory, its just something that I woke up with.
Its just a knot in my necktie, the shoo in my shoo fly, the black of my black eye.
I'm not so scared of the future anymore, they say it ain't always fair
but I think it tends to be a pretty even score.
I never really believed that life starts on your birthday because from all that I've seen, not even death stops at the grave.
Where have you been when I was looking for you?
And now you're here and I'm not so sure its something I could do.
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Cameron Smith Fort Worth, Texas
Cameron Smith is a folk singer and songwriter from Fort Worth, TX
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