Look at the bubblegum pop right outta that dirty two timing mouth; you said you would come back with the cure, but all you have is a severe case of a chlamydia induced jive jitters; all in the name of saving my poor sick soul, you a bad, hard, scalin, lyin snake that bites hard; Poppin and snappin like a real live mid-western frontier Klan runner; runnin for hills that hold no tar, but an awful lot of gold. One is more important than the other depending on where you hail from and how long it’s been since the last. You gotta a smoke baby? I need a exhale worth making me work for it another day…
This sun and tar will make you work a full week’s work for a sweat to get its way and a the cool shade and reprieve of a southern nod isolated to valley in-between a muddy doorway and redemption via a broken down black iron gate that allows you to hide or be seen depending on where you hail from and what your aim is. Making you great is no easy feat but with the assistance of this here junk, I’ll make you look like Tina Turner before Ike with a voice like Ella after Tisket a Tasket with a warm whiskey chasing you down a pink lane followed by a lover you said no to, due to your new love that resides in that bag; both know who you belong to, both know the lengths you will go to, only one presses on…..you know the one baby…exit with me…
It’s hard time doing the shuffle waiting for next train to where you know you gotta go, I ve been waiting damn near all day, waiting for that load...I’ll keep you safe, I’ll keep you, point it over yonder, turn that fan on baby, turn that white noise to black noise and sit a spell under this here tar tent….I love your breath, I love your breath, I love that railroad running down my limb that use to home lifelines, now bloodlines for a tar caravan going southbound…You betcha darling, you betcha I love you, for now I gotta tend to this dirty dying field…..they need breath too, you know….golden hushes run through them fields, you know it like you know I love you in these here shoes, deep in those souls, mine’s been misplaced, so those’ll do sugar, you know they will until….
I’d never leave you out in the cold darling, just leave me be for just a little bit, when it turns again, you come on back in, I ‘d never turn you away baby, just give me a minute to get right with the Lord, in this spoon, this here worshipping Voo Doo ritual turned sacred under the light of a raging sun, full moon and setting on the wind of a memory twilight; sending those harder times into a remission that you can’t baby, you betcha I love you baby, you betcha. It all means something to somebody, depending on where you hail from and what you see, what that eye patch don’t cover, what that rig don’t puncture, at the end of the day it all may be the same scene, but you make all the difference baby, all the difference in the world…
I know you saw me up the road up on that porch praying to the almighty in a slick hat and greased practices, I shore do love you though baby, enough…..well enough. Don’t you forget it sugar, a belt can be a tool of salvation, a vessel of the holy word of the pliable feats of jungle cats in the street that tame now, tame down to the junk, I help em baby, you’ll see. Can’t do it without me darling….I shore do love you baby. Depending on where you hail from, they hunt jungle cats and here I am providing a service proper in between the almighty and them dark stalking cats that aim to harm you baby, they aim to harm….I set em down, lay em down….for you baby.
Spit my gum out for you baby, spit em all out for you baby, but give me space proper to fight these eels for you and me, jungle cats baby, jungle cats; big ol black panthers, vein seeking tigers, and lions that lie harder than you been hit by me in a sickness storm, I aim to lay em down baby, lay em down. Just blood baby, just blood, I’s born out of it and so were you baby, leave it be, let it go, nature of jungle fights…precious bag of junk holds me in a porch and keeps me; keeps me like you can’t sugar, but I shore do love you baby, love you proper. Get off the floor baby, ain’t nuf room for us both, I expect more from you darling. I expect, that you suspect, that I’m goin now; and depending on where you hail from, you would’ve seen it coming or you just plain vacant….I shore do love you though baby, shore do love you and them hopeful eyes losing their resilience and motion making abilities. You remember me baby; next summer, on the porch, on the blood rise setting sun, I’m tending to the jungle, I’m tending to the rig, tending to the tar fields…….I shore did love you baby, shore did with all my…
