Days Come Down - Matthew Good

They buried me

In a suit made of old lighters

And magazines

Mostly pages of Mother Jones

And The Nation

Better Living, bits of patience

Which you’ll need

Drove away in the Valiant

My old man that he gave me

Slant six, busted tail light

Ivory Green

When the days come down

And we’re laid right out

Catch you catching me

When the days come down

I was interred

In a church without no ceiling

With a bear who was out eating

Watching from the trees

And as I stood upon the waters

Their silhouettes, my daughter

Waving back at me

Well sometimes I get it

What it is I came for

Like the screaming of your first born

Sounds like singing

When the days come down

And we’re laid right out

Catch you catching me

When the days come down

When they catch you catching me, oh

When they catch you catching me

Gonna catch you catching me, oh

Gonna catch you catching me

Gonna catch you catching me, oh