Disposable Drummers in Disposable Bands
I want to leave,
but they won't let me.
I spent my diseased years here,
on the borders of empty.
And if I could turn around at the next gray skyline,
toward the bluest ocean,
and come home.
The leaves like the sun
and soon enough winter.
I'll spend these days with you,
but you've left here for Virginia.
Here if I close my eyes
I can see you driving,
North up the highway to see him,
without me beside you.
I know we can fix this
if we count it out on twos and fours.
Forgive all our old sins,
count the time back to home.
Where I'll light a fire
until this thing passes,
and you'll find my wedding ring
among all the ashes.