9-19-07

  I got a pocket full of songs
to sing about you
when I'm drunk
and it makes me smile
because the "Man In Black"
smiles down on me
as I write my songs of
satire that left you speechless tonight.

  I've got the wounds to
make me famous
and I've got the lyrics to
make me an icon of an
American Dream
but I don't have the looks
that you desire to fascinate over me
of a six string guitar
that painted you a memory
of a song that intimidated you
into a death complete only because
I miss Johnny Cash.

  his ten foot poster
hanging on my wall
I look up to it every night
that I fall asleep to
as you are my inspiration
of a gutiar left unstrummed
into a broken chord
that I wished I could never play.

  as eventually the words that you wrote
I almost was fascinated
into a song left unspoken for me
which only spoke volumns of my mercy unforgiven.

  as Country Music was the Music
that soothed the pain
almost as much as the bottle
which never ended
except into a wish made
by wishful thinking alone
that made Johnny Cash jealous
of a song once lived
about a drunk like myself
smiling into an eternal happiness.

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