crooked muse - Gregory Alan Isakov

Pictures watch from the sidewalk past

Poems go flying in the tracks

All we ever got left is a pile of things

I visit you with nothing burning

Hidden heart, stomach churning

Circled in the words like the vultures

Your mouth becomes a dictionary

Words without a holy theory

You’re the only one on the page

Look it up to find my heart

Tear that old shit apart

Till you find the words to sum me up

I don’t need no lullabies

You sit me down here and you cry

The music man sings his mystery songs

He tries to put his finger on

There’s things unfelt that he’s always longed to feel

The things we all are destined to loose

While I seek out that crooked muse

You stole my heart and filled it up with blues

I’ve been waiting for you and me to watch this world from a windows seat

Look down there, all them tiny creatures running crazy

And I’ve been here on this precipice

And I picked apart anything I bring

So we can toss our suitcase into the wind at last

We’ve all the merry things we needed

It’s time like this we remember to believe

Let it roll, let it ride, let it ride on me

Lay me down here in your field

They know just, what they steal