One small step to the stage
the band gets up and plays,
our brown bottles shining, worn shoes
in this neon house of blues

I stick my gum under the table,
send the cue ball round,
shake my way to the dancefloor
feel my way to the ground.

bare shoulders and brastraps, black,
dirty blonde, deep and dusky red,
swaying like they never heard of sin
breaking fresh tattoos in.

something’s burning behind it all,
barbeque ribs, eyes rolled back.
puddles of what we’re drinking,
reflecting what we’re thinking.

it’s just dark enough, loud enough
to keep from gawkin, to keep from talkin,
portraits on the wall look down on us,
ancestors pointing to town for us,
guitar-neck arrows,
screaming scarecrows,
you’re gonna need wheelbarrows
for all of us.



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