What will thanksgiving bring to me, the table?
Everyone crawling in disguise feathers up casting shadows
The movements slowly moving
Marches breathing

As February marches in the game
Whispers my name

Her thunder rolling
The path upside down looking up to us
In our small town aching
Fear blistered

You missed your stop
Quake in fury
Hath the stoplight shown to protest you
And your quarry

The muscles outweigh fame and hang America
But we’re down south now
Reminiscing of blowjobs and
Seven eleven
For about twenty years I’d say
Unravel bright decay
A standing ovation
A full applause