Might be as good a fucking song as was ever written.

I’m goin’ down to the Greyhound station Gonna get a ticket to ride Gonna find that lady with two or three kids And sit down by her side Ride ’til the sun comes up and down around me ‘Bout two or three times Smokin’ cigarettes in the last seat Tryin’ to hide my sorrow from the people I meet And get along with it all Go down where the people say “Y’all” Sing a song with a friend Change the shape that I’m in And get back in the game, start playin’ again I’d like to stay But I might have to go to start over again Might go back down to Texas Might go to somewhere that I’ve never been And get up in the mornin’ and go out at night And I won’t have to go home Get used to bein’ alone Change the words to this song, start singin’ again I’m tired of runnin’ ’round lookin’ For answers to questions that I already know I could build me a castle of memories Just to have somewhere to go Count the days and the nights that it takes To get back in the saddle again Feed the pigeons some clay, turn the night into day Start talkin’ again, when I know what to say I’m goin’ down to the Greyhound station Gonna get a ticket to ride Gonna find that lady with two or three kids And sit down by her side Ride ’til the sun comes up and down around me ‘Bout two or three times Feed the pigeons some clay Turn the night into day Start talkin’ again when I know what to say.

I’m too damn lazy to break it up into stanzas like the poetry it is, because it is poetry. This stuff is resonating lately. Maybe it’s the weather. There’s a young fellow on the new job and he was looking out the window the other day and he said if he had known how gray and bleak the New York City winters are he wouldn’t have come out from Wisconsin. It’s true the winters here are always pretty bleak. Must be something about all the cold concrete that makes it seem so much colder than much colder places, even back on the Great Lakes with the Canadian wind whipping down and deep snow.

I’ve had some shitty winters here too, but there’s something about this one that seems so much colder, even though the temperatures have been pretty mild. That’s if you just look at the numbers anyway. The numbers can always be deceiving and that goes for everything you try to measure. A mile might as well be twenty if you’re feeling ‘some kinda way,’ as the folks here often say. I guess I’m feeling some kinda way.

What’s there to say though when Blaze Foley said it so much better?