oh, it's been tough,
and it's been long,
lonesome and lost,
silly and stupid,
cold fingers, hot tempers,
a soul disrupting the dark,
my path has been
a language so strange,
and it is here
that I stink myself.
I knew that I loved her
but I couldn't say why
or where there days die
into fingers fire
into the last little feeling
into my heart weeks.
oh, the last o'points of fire
that turn down the nights
are the last little things
that play guitar in the hearts
of men like me hurt
so hard like the sky.
then we go here,
and then we go there,
and in the dumb dawn,
where roommates provide a whole
brand new life, the last
little feeling that is left
in my heart
on a guitar railroad Wednesday.