midnight
the hour of darkness
the hour of fistfights
under the arches
we wait for daybreak
eat knuckle sandwich
lament for those who
fight with language
praying
is to the faithful
what wishing
is to the faithless
what drinking
is to the shitfaced
and I'm shitfaced
every day now
someday
he'll drive a tractor
he is no farmer
it is not natural
it is attractive
(but) too many factors
conspire against the
pipe dream of tractors
midnight
out in the moonlight
sometimes it feels right
sometimes it feels right