Bar Fight

The time is 12:35
sun down, it’s night.
Just got in a bar fight
route four, time to drive.

The cops were on their way
and I knew I couldn’t stay.
I knew I would say
“Is there a problem off-if-ther?”

The wind in my beard
eye punched shut
hands fucked up
from some beat up schmuck.

I feel my dark soul
leak into my knuckles
on the steering wheel
tempted to turn

95 into the median
belt off through a windshield
won’t wake up again
dying on the sideline.

Baby, I am back
boot to hat black.
Soul darker than that
wanting to end everything.

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Bar Fight

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