It's pretty good, the wine
The way that we look at
Ten to eight in the morning

Just talking, still awake in
Dawn and dew drinking, thinking
Always...


Remembering the laughs, the time
We got high for seven days down

In New Orleans and it seemed like
No one else knew we were just
The moon and sun in fog before the

Heat burned it away and took
The sleep from tired heads on
Beds of reaching hands, of road trip

Breath and long tall freedom

And then you long

For the days of trippin' down
The long road just reading the
Signs that show you the way to

A higher place you meditate to
Feel the quiet of the earth
That was back

When we used to be alright

Another shame, the way

The city smells worse on
A hot day in August...2 PM
Right before us good movers

Move and us shakers break
Our hearts getting home to
Country love and the garbage

Dump by the dried up creek
Near the forest that once had life
And then I turn on the news

Somebody shoot me soon
I'm tired of over heating, falling
Quick to bending knees and

Broken veins, of always needing
Faith to get to shore and break
All the vows I've made


No time or presence
Of mind to wonder why

No time for questions of
Why I wonder why
Something's wrong...again

The noise shakes the ground
There's a rage in
The crowd and I'm a face

In the crowd, what's your name?
You're sinkin' in the sand
Standing next to me, a river

Running through your pants, afraid
To trust me when my hands
Are helping you