western records and my septic harddrive

the man lied about the ten gallon
hats that held only six
and johnny was rooting in
the scrap metal looking
for my graphing calculator
but i couldn't stand the concerto


it was cotton and eight after the evening
and mark is pulling at my hip skin
but I am busy rerehearsing my funeral
but the music is off and the foxtrot is wronged
so bathe me in coffee to forget the town
because I will


I am setting your pinned moths free
but that cat from last year
is chewing on their dust
and I am not pleased
but tin cans are planted
and whisper it is 1962