Sun don’t reach here, boy,
Ain’t no shine ’round these parts, boy;
Need’a get used to gloom.

Sun won’t reach here, boy,
You best forget those dreams,
Those butterfly dreams.

Those city-boy things,
Grass ain’t greener ’round here, boy;
They make mockery …

Of pipe dreams over here.
Happily ever after …
Actually turns to

Half mast to full blown,
Plans rolled up into bottles,
Letters ain’t here, boy.

Kids here kicked to curb,
Like scurvy-ridden pups or …
Kittens spitting foam.

Sun don’t reach here, boy,
You better get used to moon.
Flashing lights never good.

Don’t you mistake those lights for the flag,
They mean anything but freedom,
You better hope they’re not taking daddy this time,

You better believe they taking someone’s daddy.
I hope he doesn’t smell like he’ll run.
If pigs smell bacon, they eager beavers on the trigger.

You get out of here with that hunger, boy,
We only eating on the 1st and 15th,
Deck leaving us living check to check,

You better check your head,
You think writing will make it better?
They don’t let you grow here.

They’ll cut you down real quick,
Didn’t you hear, Bob?
Before you spread the spore of hope

You’ll get burned down,
So quit that poet talk.
Quit those big city dreams.