Country Girl

Okay here we go again two in morning on the end of nothing known trying everyone for what they had I know its bad but not so long ago it was what it was no brimstone or magic in you her and him and 23 billion of that other bacteria that exists in a hand of soil thrown into a blue sky dices of stars joining onto her holding on to whatever goes mangling with the warm gods of autumn some crone playing softly in pools of swinging gold besides the broken rooms of yesterdays bleeding snow giving honey trip don’t fly to Latino girls who don’t know there taking my money before they go and leaving me with a hole which holds the moving lips saying don’t leave and crone don’t leave leaning against the whole truth smoking with slow magnetism as burning rubbish with wings circles around your soul and souls of other Latinos girls crooning for souls flirting with car salesmen across the road crooning softly with souls to be sold by big fat hands moving slowly through the fire and into the inferno the place where dogs wheeze in dust clouds wherever long forgotten angles are flying for the sound of midnight blues playing in the streets below the clouds and a high sun leaving but never leaning into the west of an American daydream. Go, go, go country girl go.