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February 18, 2020

Crooked Horse

I came into town riding a crooked horse
dusty vagabond from another place of course  
pitch black sunglasses my name
hide my contempt for the now
clouds of uncertainty follow me
just passin’ through
a fugitive from the Kremlin
with red tears in my eyes
longing for the old glory days
but wise enough to know they ain’t comin’ back
at least for this old comrade
so I rest when I can and stare at the sun
a handout here, a handout there
movin’ on with the moon
standing out in the rain soaking dry sword in hand
you can’t go home when you ain’t got no home to go to
time to mount up and ride until I’m dead
re-enacting the glorious battles of my youth in my head