Fifteen hours and fifteen days Was all your fragile mind could take Before it crashed to ground Like broken glass. But I don’t mind. I’m working on my novel Feels like I’m almost done. A grown man on a child’s bike, A Radio Flyer in tow Strapped and stacked to high With all his shit. In this haze I can barely see him at all. I’m working on my novel Feels like I’m almost done. Underneath the smoke-screened sun All washed out in LSD Should have known the trip I’m on Would end with a fall. Long past our days When stadiums stand rusted red Shelled and dead, shipwrecked Against the sky Still dawn cries Crimson tears for no one. I’m working on my novel Feels like I’m almost done I’m working on my novel Like I’ve just begun.