Ride Out West
Speaking through gritted teeth,
The mountains
Early in September called to say
That you were missed;
You should come home.
On my way out there,
I looked back twice.
When I looked forward,
I was carving through
The badlands,
Like mars,
Looking for water
To put in some whiskey.
I saw then
The ghosts of Souix warriors
Riding war ponies
In my headlights
Under the ripe cherry moon.
Understand
That I knew you,
Gentle wrath,
How you followed me
Across my country.
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