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all the bad men are crickets now
still howling all night
and the sun goes down
and the bad boys are birds
they V in synchronization over undertows
and over wide truck crimson clay roads
doomed to tire and roam
on foot til they’re feet cry out
runnin at rocks
and pickin at old bones
and if you were the water
and the one that let the lakes dry
knowing alone you exist dont change it
weather you know what you are
dont change it for me
you are the water if you are, if you’re the air you keep me
weather you and i alone know or not.
