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Simon Joyner
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Roll On
You were up to your necklace in drunk friends and wreckage when the New Year
Stepped out of the past through the rose colored glass and dropped you off here
With a broken kazoo, a faded marijuana tattoo, and confetti in your hair
Now you're Jesus' age, but you've only been betrayed by the calendar
Your mother remarried after your father was buried in this sailor's suit
Now she sells real estate, he floats in his grave, and neither has much to say to you
So you follow a cloud to a Betsy Ross shroud and see the wind try to rip it in two
But it don't make you feel any better when you're under the weather and it's hanging over you
It's fading
So what are you going to do now?
All America asked was for you to mow the grass,
But you're thinking of throwing in the towel
Roll on
Mystery is bandaged with routine, Plaster-of-Paris, and mosquito net
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While paint thinner blades strip the windshield of salt cake and sunset
Someone once said the humble would stumbled onto something long forgotten and ravaged,
But your dreams soak the pillow just as a thimble of rain feeds the cactus
So drain your bruises, cut your scapegoats loose and confess ignorance
Pull a metaphor out of a river or a door and add your fingerprints
You could always go west just like the rest and bury your head into the hot sand
Or you could dust your broom and dissolve the moon on your eyelids
It's fading
So what are you going to do now?
You're either laying low or chasing smoke
Or thinking of throwing in the towel
Roll on
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