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The Runners

Twelve* on December 21, 2012 00:43

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    Country Harvest

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    Taking our chances for the winter comes in
    Running away from the white man saviour
    Picking up bones with no meat on them
    Stuffing our clothes scraps of paper
    We run we run we run away

    Picking up Mary with her gambling habit
    Picking the wrong men in the hope of winning
    One of the good guys with a past not sordid
    At 35 mary's not sure she's past it

    Fella called Daniel got his kicks in high school
    Beating up guys, he thought it not cruel
    Now late at night he sleeps quite soundly
    But me I can't, I wake up flinching

    Call me a fool for writing down the
    Days that we had in summer's cuckold
    Looking back now, I'd give a million
    buttercup heads for one of winters'

    Look at us now all dressed in black a
    half deck of cards, I call a full house
    Look how we joked about who'd go first
    Never had guessed the wheels on this hearse

    'Sing us a song' 'your lips are ashen
    Bloody mistakes' 'nobody listen
    This man's a fool, his heart is empty'
    'Dont' give a damn he's just not worth it'


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