Butcher in Town - Malcolm Holcombe

deep in the south

the cypress steals

cobweb moss

all gray in the middle

no wind no rain

keeps a good man down

sweatin' and a grinnin'

way down south

you aint from here

when the shit hits the fan

there’s more meat on (for the) a pencil

from (for) the butcher in town

whiskey money

money and gold

splashin' spit

hard to swallow

ten foot tall

deep in the water

too deaf to call

damn ready to follow

hundred dollar bill’s

jus' backpocket preachin'

no sign to the edgewise

drinkin' good whiskey

loud and heavy

like a dogday bluejay

blacksnake lungs

gonna slide down singin'

under the thumbs of the

cannons and guns and a

swattin' flies in the

stink of an eye

i dont claim a thing

not a two bit clue

but somebody whispered

war kills the truth

ev’ry word in a hand

gonna fly like a crow

better shut my mouth

to the promised land

all black and white

from the wars of the souls

too much whiskey

money and gold

c.

2011 gypsyeyes music, bmi

malcolm holcombe