Cass Mccombs Mystery Mail
Mystery Mail It read: "I hope this finds you well" To no avail You tipped the scale Now I'll see you in hell
Sailing over this story's arc A cardboard box that missed it's mark Like a comet seen at dusk Like the Mayan twins born of the husk We were raised and flew at the ver same height But feel individually from our flight
I knew Daniel since high school in Benicia He sold cookies from his parents' freezer But were we ever really ever close? Now Daniel's gone and I'm his ghost He went north and I went east We had a plan - or an idea, at least
From his cousin's lab in Crescent City Daniel packaged two pounds for speedy delivery USPS to Greenpoint, Brooklyn Every gram sold while his cousin kept cooking Successfully, this went on For, oh, I don't know how long
One day I turned the corner onto India St. I must have turned white as a sheet Three policemen were standing on my stoop Talking to my girlfriend, Betty Boop I turned around never to see Betty again I'm sorry, Betty, I hope you understand
I assumed they got to Daniel first In this line of work you come to expect the worse Some time later, the smirk was wiped from my smile I was arrested for hopping a turnstile Bones had told the warrant cleared after eight years So, naturally, on my court date I failed to appear
Eventually, the cardboard comet had to fall I took a walk down the long hall The first thing I did from my cell was write a letter in search of Daniel Daniel was indeed inside the lion's den Not the only Lionkiller in a California Sate Penn.
Daniel wrote me back in a matter of days No mention of whether or not crime pays He wrote: "You wouldn't recognize me anymore" "I bet you'd rather be back cleaning toilets in Baltimore" "I'll never make it out of this cell" "I guess the next time you see me will be in Hell"
The letters stopped rollin in I heard Daniel was stabbed with a ballpoint pen About sixty times by his cellmate, Charles Now people talk about immortalizing him in marble Not everybody should be made a saint Daniel was [a] good good guy, but a saint he ain't
Mystery Mail It read: "I hope this finds you well" To no avail You tipped the scale Now I'll see you in Hell
