Oh, perhaps I might sleep, but the screen door's a guilt bull
Stuck plainly on sticking me through.
Had I the blood boiled, or the fist like a marker,
I'd haul off, and dot his eye blue.
But that bull just wants a word, the night just wants to barrel,
Bet the sunrise'll want a piece of me too.
The back window creaks as I head over heels;
You say, "Greenville," so it's Greenville with you.
Heart-broken lovers breathe teardrops and incense --
My collar: the history of that.
Heart-breaking lovers breathe rust-tasting lightning
And cough for the incense back.
I'm a heart-breaking lover, heart-broken and dead
As the hometown when the eyes see you through.
Neither running nor hiding, no, I'm simply leaving.
If you're going to Greenville, that'll do.
Cruel the fiddley night -- course you can't trust the night
Where both nothing and everything looks new.
But all o'sudden it dawns: I am running -- not running away --
But closing in on what I'm running to.
My brushes have been caked like eyes in the morning.
Recall your eyes in the morning as carillons,
Played with the will of some daydreaming student.
Play on, good driver, play on!
The heart-broken scars in the moonlight, they follow
And try to patch themselves up with me.
Fragile as calf legs, I plead to pull over;
I'm gonna need you to sing me to sleep.
Old traveling companion, load up your bow
With the killingest kisses you can.
Cry while you kiss me; mumble the beauty.
We're halfway to Greenville again.