Honey baby, I’m a mumblin’ mess –
I got blood where blood shouldn’t ought to be.
It’s all clotted up inside me like the innards
of a Bob Andy pie.
Honey babe, my brain’s a bowling ball –
Old Man Dawson jams his fingers all up in it
an’ he rolls it at a big ol’ 4-6-7 split
down a lane behind my eyes.
Honey Baby. I’m a deathbed penitent
and the work is set myself is far from done.
Twined around nerves so stripped and raw they’re like to make
a hungry yardbird jump a cat
The great curve of my life is an inverted parabola
I’m making whoopee down in hell with my doney roller
there ain’t no body’s helping hand crankin’ my victorla
I’m drinking down carbolic acid and smokin’ coca-cola…
Honey baby where’s my fry and ham bone?
Big Foot Chester read my fortune yesterday.
He told me “you ain’t got no future, boy, your future’s all used up –
you’re gonna die here in this town”
Honey baby, I’m a certified fool
draped in flesh pale as a playing card.
Don’t you watch the screen door, don’t you count the days I’m gone
Just let me go my ragged road.
Honey baby, your skin is foreign flowers
soon I’ll be travelling through that land
pale as southern starlight through the Pentecostal pines
where there’s no forever in that shore.