He’s lost in back seat melancholy,
hands cuffed and heart broken.
It’s the winter sun he mourns the most.
It’s meagre light everything in a world of dark,
worth more than a thousand stars
The law crawls eagerly
over land that was his home.
Unearthing all his treasure.
His life’s work will soon be gone,
they’re digging up his pleasure.
One, two, and three are uncovered,
the tramp the hooker and the preacher.
There’ll be twelve more before sunshine fades
eager fingers searching hoping,
stab stab stabbing with their spades
Now his ride is all over,
all his treasures are uncovered.
All that’s left is infamy,
but it’s not about the destination,
it is all about the journey.
Now as wheels spin in November mud,
he’ll never tell them why.
He’ll bury those secrets deep inside.
His reasons, his new treasures,
buried far too deep for anyone to find
Leave a Reply