Matthew Good Days Come Down
They buried me
In a suit made of old lighters
And magazines
Mostly pages of Mother Jones
And The Nation
Better Living, bits of patience
Which you'll need
Drove away in the Valiant
My old man that he gave me
Slant six, busted tail light
Ivory green
When the days come down
And we're laid right out
Catch you catching me
When the days come down
I was interred
In a church without no ceiling
With a bear who was out eating
Watching from the trees
As I stood upon the water
There silhouettes, my daughter
Waving back at me
Well, sometimes I get it
What it is I came for
Like the screaming of your first born
Sounds like singing
When the days come out
And you're laid right out
Catch you catching me
When the days come down
Catch you catching me, oh
When they catch you catching me
Gonna catch you catching me, oh
Gonna catch you catching me
Gonna catch you catching me, oh
Gonna catch you catching me