6200
I set off on a great journey
Bought some business
I thought was turnkey
Only packed "What Momma Told Me"
—Then lost my luggage along the way...
Lied to so many people sayin' I'd come back someday.
Picked up some new wares
In a city, that auctions off the pretty
And when the hammer fell
In her Bible, she bookmarked the tale
...And I remembered— to never forget
The cracks in the driveway and the crumbling steps
Of my old address...
She calls me a Gypsy
I call it "Synecdoche"
Me and Seymour
Set out to see more
And collect souvenirs from the horror
Postcards stained with tears
I's dotted— t's crossed and unsigned fears—
Didn't want her to know...
So I blamed the stain on-the-motto-of-mailman's bravado
Of, "—through rain, sleet, and snow."
Journals with legends, written by hand
The Map of a Mad Man
Pawned it all, but my buddy pass
On a CYOA—I did the math
—But forgot to calculate the tax... On the heaviness of my bags
"Aren't the airlines a mutha f*cker?"
—We all took the peanuts for granted...
I hope the calf is fatted.
And that she'll still grease my scalp
Even though the strands are matted— and everything is so tender...
What time reveals to the Veal
Who's feasted on the promises of milk and honey
That even the flies get sucked-in— stuck-in the sweet sticky-runny.
...And when they tried to take me to the slaughter
I heard the familiar creek of her knees as she fell at the altar—
From 3000 miles away...
And I began to pray for a "Someday"
Oh, Sweet Sunday...
All it takes to repent of a lie is to try...
And I've been trying to get back to you,
but I'll never forgive myself— If I don't make it true
P.S.
Luke
