Thursday, June 22, 2006
Black Shoals
You coulda been rich, boy;
you coulda owned the mountains.
We coulda done business, boy;
we coulda hog-tied heaven like rodeo clowns.
But you wouldn’t meet my aspen fist, boy;
you wouldn’t flirt with the slightest sandbank.
You shorted the wrong stock, boy,
and got nothin but colors in return.
