You were at a truck stop
somewhere in Minnesota
You were feeling lonely
You were feeling helpless
So you said can I bum one
Went right back to smoking
Eleven days of progress
are now barely a notion
It's funny how we think straight
if only for a moment
I guess that's just our best selves
I guess that's just what hope is
I learned that lesson backwards
running barefoot in the backwoods
I thought I'd find you one day
those years are now my enemy
May all your days
be sunny south Florida
I hope your lawn chair blues
are all you can afford to
Commiserate, with all your friends
how its all the same shit
again
I guess that's just your ghost now,
somewhere under the palm trees
A pair of khaki shorts and
your affinity for cool breeze
You'd probably have your glasses off
maybe even have your chair back
I prayed you'd have your eyes closed
I prayed you'd finally relax
May all your days
be sunny south Florida
I hope your lawn chair blues
are all you can afford to
Commiserate, with all your friends
how its all the same shit
again
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