Saint Elsewhere

It's time to reach the edge

the cutting room floor

the beginning of the end

it's time to make the shit

hit the fan of my heart

and bolt throw me into 

saint elsewhere.

I'm tired of the pain
I feel when I think back
or when I go forward
to a place I've been before
or the attempt at opening a new door
trying to redefine the memory
for myself but it's all still there
the things I said
the things I did
the reasons for guilt
the reasons for pain
that won't go away
Can I ever get off this train?

Can I ever get the vision back
that sets me apart from the game
that made me who I was
that soul that got lost in the rain
before the flood, before the drain
Is it even possible to find
a piece of yourself you didn't mean
to set aside
Is it even possible to recreate the time
Or have I already been recreated blind.

Riffing

In the north woods of Minnesota
the dry heat Arizona
California summer
deep blue skies
sea rose and
fell
so did the
moon
ten billion times
and we dug up the
well of our hopes

addresses changed
but the names stayed the same
hit hard by the times and the strains
bigger decisions mounted the pain

villagers complained
in return of dead sons
daughters would soon
dress the part and
join ranks

many think
in the peak of their hour
they would live it again,
but die without power

television goony news
scripted to censor you
until it came time
for the weather
then it's always ok to be wrong

desert to
deep south
snakes and
field mouse
borrowed clothes
from the poor
stayed indoors
three days or more
Albert Finley
fixed carburetors
hand cleaner
turned
his black hands
white
fall shivered
in colorful sights
mosquito's crept in
broken window panes
and then the rain

Alabama
fortune tellers
Albuquerque bars and
dwellers
Carolina
over nighters
twenty hour drives with
delusional drivers
redneck over biters
peter Paul and
Mary Jane
passed the time
against the grain
pulled on through
the redwoods
landed home
but not for good

"Evenin' boredom
how ya doing
get you busy
minds a' brewin'"
never get the time
no progress
deep distress

Going back to smell
the Rocky wood
feeling my way around
the lofty dark
northwest hills
city parks

Birmingham bus rides
thick beers
flowered ears
getting no where
on purpose
why was I
here
what was my
purpose