Mr. My Go

Hip-pocket flask at the ready
Step-light downed by the glass
What's that nail doing in my head?
One minute ago I was shooting from the saddle

Knee-deep in salt and shoe grease
Whipping the leather with a fire toothed crack
Words are candy, they rot out my brain
With the nail twisting hot front up to back
With the nail twisting hot front up to back

No, this triumph is nothing like waste,
The smell of my youth in a brown paper sack
Shake it and throw it in the oven
Warm it up soft like it wasn't day old
Or stale and hard as a coroner's wife

Look through the rearview mirror
At the headlights, up from behind
Melt into war-eyes and candy cigarettes
Vampire teeth and black-eyed snowmen

It's a hundred degrees my boots are soaked to the tongue
Covered in misty aberration
Souls are soles are holes in the frame of a
Picture of a madman hanging on a dusty wall

Down the hall on the right, all night,
Paces reverently Mr. My Go
Are you ready? let's hit, then man...
Let's visit the neighbors that never come home
From a costume-ball no one goes to alone