Early one morning as sun turns up
A drifter slips out of bed
With every sheet dirty and coffee gone
Decides to end his new pastime
To her they created once upon a time
For him it wasn’t that long ago
While she tended their garden
He was counting crows
They burn their books in a blue bonfire
in a ditch on top of grey hill
Ashes blowing in cold wind
But he never noticed where they fell
Walks away on an tumbleweed path
With a compass pared into spew
Leaving behind every thing he owns
Set his eyes on his next high noon
And says
Here’s to my brand new shoes
Wanders to old stomping grounds
Where he stays for more than a spell
Lays both hands in one way deals
Searching for blazing voodoo
With no mystics balding tale
Coming from those laughing clowns
He tramps over ancient marigold plants
Running from those ghost towns
But he moves too fast and breaks his chin
Trips in brush where lies conceal
Rolling into broken glass
Reflects life’s shattered reprise
Weeds and thickets wrap around his legs
Cuts and bruises let bled to heal
Stands up tall with hobbled legs
It’s time for a new deal
And says
Here’s to my muddy shoes
Then one day as the sun comes down
He was just about to do the same
A crossroad somewhere from here to there
A strange familiar springs minute
Standing on the edge of a fresh garden
Absent a sense of déjà vu
He had to admit he felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to wipe his shoes
Stays a while in fortunes bed
Found himself never quite ready to run
Then one day his legs fall off
New life begins to grow
Finds his time and stakes his claim
On a future when his past blew rust
A brand new man living real joy
After life in a blind mans bluff
And he says
Here’s to my clean shoes