stained glass smiles and the women who lovet hem

when was the last time you fell to the ground in agony
your ear to the tracks in hope of a rattle
the truth is you must leave to find yourself
be it hip deep in snow or waste deep in love it finds you creeping along the side of the free-way interchange, wasting daylight with a thumb in the air and a bag on your back
she stopped a 4:30 on a saturday..the cold was astounding
she loved me for hours
roadside atrraction through fog filled windows, her name was...beautiful i'm sure
the flat tire abandonment and i must be going theres a place over looking the bay i must get to
thanks for the sympathy the love and the burbon i'm wondering should i have called you again.