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