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The Sound When Fists Hit the Wall
The air is hazy with second hand smoke
Watch your drunken memories speed by on the main road
Take it north through twisting hills and winding minds
Out past all the lakes and whispering trees
Go along 696 through woods, stare up at the clouds
When will you finally be fast enough to get through the shade
I think of all the ‘could be’s’ and the ‘should haves’
But the ‘would haves’ sting the rudest
Tall grass and weeds stuck in the tires of our grandparents cars
Add up the miles on your fingers because you never figured out how to do mental math correctly
That’s where you’ll find a tall fellow awaiting you for the past few years
When you see him, tell him I sent you
He’ll let you through the door
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I wonder if you still steal your mother's cigarettes