Ghostlimb Southwest Passage
the sordid memories were chasing me
along the swollen latitudes of a rotten globe
its time to hang them up
like sweaty clothes out the window
once i used to care about coming home
the feeling drowned out easy by the engine drone
along the bloated longitude of a rotten globe
i always came back
with some long story to tell
tinged with the helplessness
of unrelatable detail
but like the monotony of a metronome
i always come home
