Too many stones

Too many stones

Along the way

Rolling beneath my toes

Scuffed by shuffling feet

Dust in my eyes

Tears in my heart

Broken fingers

Play sad songs

On slide trombones

With honky tonk memories

Fouling the pavement

There is no room left

For the tourist

Paint is peeling

In paradise

Close my eyes

To the rooster

Strutting in a sandbox

Entertaining mister Sloane

In the shadows

For a quarter

No home comforts

In moonlight

Falling on wasteland

Romance is a firefly

Biting the head

Of its mate

Even as they copulate

Only the brightest

Lights survive,

In darkness

There is a ritual

Of surrender.