are arm wrestling in a truck stop
in a city hardly known just outside the state line
i raise a glass & look on as the weather patterns change
& threaten our little home
it's a sick feeling really when you don't know the words
but say it anyway & know exactly how to look
a monster will crawl back in his hole for this
he will lose his name & his pride & his dark green, matted fur for this
& then the crows will come
circle the city & sleep on the high lines
looking down on the place where the fields were cleared
& metropolis rose like the devil with a handbag
the streets will slowly fill the with faces of the nameless
who's feet move in automation towards the places they don't even know they're going
i will move quietly among them, having lost all but my soul
a bright glowing neon "open for business" sign
& this then is how you will find me
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