We’re on the highway to Spring Grove.
All the leaves have fallen off of the trees.
The road is littered with the unfortunate carcasses
Of skunks and squirrels and stupid fucking raccoons.
Let’s stop in the next town and buy helium filled mylar balloons
That say “get well soon.”
Houston smells like cow shit:
Everyone drives thirty miles an hour.
A Toyota Prius is in my fucking way.
It’s always a fucking Toyota Prius,
That ends up in my fucking way.
It’s almost as if they’re all heading nowhere
It’s almost as if they have nowhere to be.
I wonder why people people even live out here.
You held my hand on a chilly Minnesota night
Without any other cars or people in sight
Not even a stray deer my headlights had captured.
I wondered, is this the apocalypse or the rapture?
If it is then I know what has happened to all of the animals
And I’m afraid you and I are in very big trouble.
We stared into each other’s eyes
Not knowing how long we’d behold our gaze
Whether we’d hold each other in our hearts
For what would only be a few moments
Or until the end of time?
Just like we had all the other times before,
Out here the wild horses thrive.
They seem to know,
That in order to survive
They should not run out in front of my car.