There you are, kid,
find you covered in dirt–
barely call this a kick-up-dust-up.
You’ve gone ‘n got all introspective on me,
Jesus,
your son is dead ‘n never buried.
Kid, you need to let that go.
We ain’t had anything like a compassionate relationship,
but even I ain’t happy watchin’ this.
Got ya some wiskey ‘n some youtube,
if the McDonalds here weren’t crap I’d get us some sweet tea.
You got a lot to look forward to kid,
‘n you might get that second-crack.
Bands break up ‘n reassemble with new harmonies.
it ain’t ever just the one song.
Get some sleep.
