I am no great manipulator
though I’m a god in my yellow skull
now on the run you see a Flying J flicker
and rock yourself back to the scene

I have felt your shaken fits dear
now playing ‘possum on my lap
if your wild and tender heart breaks
that doesn’t mean, you’ve made a mistake

I grow tired
when the road grows grey and pale upon the clear
I stopped for fire and dumped your suitcase
out on the Needles Highway
and watched your scarves blow away
upon the hill’s calloused face

Then I pointed my eyes to the nearest dive
and took a walk
I walked a mile to the barstool wild
through the urban thrust
then I took a ride for a dollar twenty five
by the local MTA
then I pointed my eyes towards the western sky
to see the shaken silos rust

A long wait brings trouble
from a moth charing flame and your two dollar throne
though not long for this world here
I hear you’re like, well so what
I’ve just been bored

That’s your light upon the river
your shaken bones swallowed in the asphalt
blood on their mouths the dogs barked through the winter
they drove a pipe through ma’ in Cannonball

The silver lining has worn tired, this automobile has lost all fear
I followed telephone lines
to your large estate out on Chadron’s swirling plains
and I plan on staying here

I went back in mind to when I was a child
pulling my bike from the Red River mud
I held my hand up, pointed my finger and thumb
and shot ‘em one by one

Then I took a slide with a drunken child
gambled on memories and trust
when I heard the sparrows whine
I opened my eyes to a cloud of dust

If you’re caught up dreaming about the past
sleeping through the future
remember sometimes, what could have been
is the same and what never happened
If you’re caught up dreaming about the past
sleeping through the future
remember sometimes, what could have been
is the same and what never happened