Fall is approaching faster than ever, and my nails are bit right down to the core, fast-changing hair styles, shoes, and perspectives, a world renewed for the leaves set to pour, and you held me tight at the end of the summer, with cigarette burns on the backs of your hands, you’re leaving to be the punk that you wanted, on a greyhound bus southbound towards Gainesville-land.
and I hope that you’ll be fine, while I am freezing back north with your eyes stuck in my mind, oh my girl, I’ll see you, way down the line.
do you recall our red clay creek bike rides? we followed the paths way down into the earth, where we discovered caves long forgotten, by the movement of land that had once given them birth, and we slipped and fell down deeper and deeper, to the place that mothers often warn their child, but we were able to break through the cave walls, and the dust, dirt, stalactites, and limestone piles.
and we flew into the sky, because our bikes were both pipe bombs of love and youthful minds, we were free, at least for a bit of time.
and I hope that you’ll be fine, while I’m freezing up north with your eyes stuck in my mind, oh Suzanna, oh God, my love of mine.