A Year on a Slow Train
My blood is strange and i can’t sit still
the photo booth strip in my fist
a year on a slow train
come home to the locks changed
driving on a long, slow night
wake up to the brake lights brights
a call from the heartland
loose ends to amend
you said it’s over, over and over again
the service then we fill the cars
a straight line with the hazards on
the sun makes the steering wheel
burn like an oil field