The Boy Come Home - Matthew Good

While I go over it in my head

Walk through those doors and stand there staring

And there ain’t one soul that’s in there dead

My hand stays out, I keep my head

And walking out I see you sitting in that Ford of your old man’s

Scratching your arms like your skin is crawling

But done up the best you can

Face first pilot through your window

Them Paupers they can’t tell

It’s strange to think we could have been so brought up by

Ourselves

Run through the streets like rivers raging to seas of barren sand

And while every gtain tears you apart stay done up the best

You can

Unemployment lines stretch to the desert and camoflouge

Hotels

Where traded up to new distinctions puts justice in your shells

Take one for the team and that pretty lady used to cover

Up the smell

But when you get back boy you’re just crazy if you dare kiss

And tell

This aching heart ain’t something I done

This aching heart’s been handed down

But I’m done with it now

So I take that screaming in my head

I walk through those doors and stand there staring

And my hand slips into my coat and everything just freezes…

Running out I see you sitting in the Ford of your old man’s

The boy come home