The lamp flickers As it burns through The last of the oil Outside, snow falls A log on the fire I pretend it’s you Covering
I sat with an old man on a weathered bench near the bank of a section of river most don’t come to anymore. He welcomed
There was nothing soft about her fragrance That whiskey breath Could peel the chrome off the bumper Of my ’83 Chevy But god-damn I loved
I made a promise To an old friend That I’d be back This way someday But a restlessness Sleeps down Inside me Burning questions In
Her father looked over the mess she had made. She could tell by the look on his face he was disappointed. She hated that look.
I can hold you In my arms And tell you All the lies You’ve been longing To hear And mean Every word I say Because