Back Missouri Way

Oh I need to get back
Oh I need to get back
Oh I need to get back
Back Missouri Way

Well there's a little girl there
And she used to care
Oh I need to get back
Back Missouri Way

Oh why did I stray
All the way
down to Arkansas?

Oh I long for the day
When I sway
In my baby's arms!

Wanna hop a N. bound train
Burn down that old flood plain
Until I'm back
Back in my baby's arms

Oh I need to get back

Oh I need to get back
Oh I need to get back
Back Missouri Way

Well there's a little girl there
And she used to care
Oh I need to get back
Back Missouri Way

SOUTHBOUND AND FROWNED UPON

I bent my spoon backwards, now what?
Should I burn some sage brush?
Do I walk the dog?
Can I watch the flowers bloom, or does that take too long?

I found my buried tape measure, does that bother you?
That you buried it and I found it?
Should I put it back?
Does your father forgive me for telling him the truth about you?

HEY, I thought I asked you a question!

IT WASN'T A FUCKING SERIOUS DISCUSSION!

I WOULDN'T HAVE A SERIOUS FUCKING DISCUSSION!

I WOULD PUT YOUR FACE IN A CRATER!

CRATER FACE!

Seriously, I'm sick of this, ya know?
How can I tell them after everything else?
Is this the right driveway?
I thought that was nancy's house, isn't she home?
Are you telling me I walked all this way to bury a minute in the driveway?

Maybe you could find another dog and call him??
If you were to do that would that bother ted?
How crazy is it that becky came over and blew david?
Names are so ridiculous, ya know? I'm sorry what were you saying?

YOU CAN'T JUST DODGE THAT BULLET ASSHOLE!

IT'S A GOD DAMN TRIGGER FINGER SPEED BOAT!

IT'S A MILE MARKER THAT'LL SLAP YOUR DAMN FACE!

JUST DENT YOUR FUCKING FACE!

DENT FACE!

wife beater/shit eater/spoon feeder

fuck the man til he's dizzy
bend him over all ass and no masks
find the facts and back in the bag
you'll haggle the hassssssssssssssssssssssssselhoff
get the asshole off
mush my spoon with different chilli and make my willy free
be a mushroom cloud proud of who you are
aaare you mistering with my mister pisser?

blister fister kiss 'er and krimp the krispy kreme
dream the steam of theme and beam me reality
from a falacy fo malaceeeereeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaa

we all eat shit. not now and then. every day.
shit eater.

WIP

Well I told you I'd leave you
If you ever did this
I begged you to believe me
But I guess you didn't give a shit
And I've got a lot of time
But not enough to give
To you

Well I saw you in the city
But you didn't look the same
All those faces and tall buildings
Changed the way that you were shaped
And yeah I'm planning something
But it's not the great escape
for you

Letter

Don't you worry baby
Think of me now and then
And I'll write you a letter
From the Missouri State Penn

Tell your mom and dad I miss 'em
Tell your sisters not to fight
Let them know that I can see Orion
Through the metal bars at night

Don't you worry baby
It didn't mean a thing
I just wanted that money
To buy you a diamond ring

I'm sorry 'bout your brother
How I ended it that way
But I wouldn't 'a shot him in the back
If he hadn't run away

But don't you worry baby
Think of me now and then
And I'll see you maybe
In another 5-10

Don't you worry baby
It didn't mean a thing
I just wanted that money
To buy you a diamond ring

windrainpaingainagainain'tsane

need some river gravel under my boot
some whiskey on my tooth
need some hills folding out of view
some railroad tracks slick with dew
need some midnight car ride
down to the muddy river side
need some smoke choking whistles
fields full of cow and thistles
need to grow out not up
give the guns to the pickup truck
light the fire under tires
of black silt slick with prints
cowboys and indians ain't shit
when you're sick with spirit

whiskey riffs

there ain't no silver linin'
wasn't ever nothin in the skies
but thunderclouds and blindin light

you can carry what you want to hold
but remember not let it go
if it falls, it folds and there's no way to know
where tomorrow catches sorrow like a stone

there ain't no golden angels
band a-waitin over yonder jordan
buried in the mornin glory just a bunch of sand

filling stations with thrown cylinders out back
craggy bricks and oil slicks
fighting for space in an eden, even if the evening resists
the crowding of senses into the shallow

there ain't no storied lives
or nothin of that sort of black jack
champion bull-frog leaper of heart

you know the rusted trusted trustle
the silent night tussle and loss of control
the spilt anger danger of another strangers overcoat
bolted to the floor and boarded over windows

there ain't no death on the other side
just cowboys and indians man
and crab cakes the size of rhode island