Woe to the sunset and it's withering flame To the cloaked sky and the yellow grass pleading,"rain." Woe to rusty cars with busted out headlights
stalking the road like pirate panthers. To the lonely dreamers idled by a cool breeze
in this forsaken summer.
To the madmen who lose themselves in empty towns
listening to the far off bark of a hound someone didn't feed today. Woe to the defunct American dream that deflated
like a hot air balloon and fell here
next to a Chevy that hasn't started since 82.
To the broken down truck drivers
who chanced leaving the interstate for a warm meal
but ended up behind the circle k buying meth.
Woe to the wishes that are blown by the wind to my doorstep
to the poor souls who think I can help them.
