Quoted By:
>Godsmack is how the wind feels
>On the face of Mike Winfield
>On his way home from the bar where he works
>Nights—the worst nights, don't nobody tip right
>And between the marriage offers and the fist fights
>And if another motherfucker touch his wrist
>Trying to pull him in to whisper
>He ain't making it to midnight
>Don't they know he got a lighter in his pocket
>A matchbook in his sock
>And a block full of charred skeletons
>Closeted, begging to get out
>He paused cause he's scared of airing out the thoughts
>He can taste it in his mouth, the sulfur and bitter carbon
>Hearing all the burning bodies shout but no
>That was a full lifetime ago, and nobody ever has to know
>He has never told, well except Ronald
>But that don't count; he was sweet and exactly
>What he needed him to be at the time
>Wine and candlelight and nice texts at lunchtime
>Why had he not called Ron back?
>Guess there just wasn't a spark, ha!
>No, no, mustn't joke about these things
>Wouldn't want to disappoint Doc Clark
>So many hours on the couch
>So many buried memories that take
>So many tears to get them out
>Water hadn't never been a friend
>Hold up—where had he seen that car before?
>Blue Acura, dent on the left rear fender
>Back again the sense of déjà vu
>Strange things you
>Never shake when you wake up in recovery
>But suddenly noticing ash is covering his head
>'Cause it's raining from the sky
>Dials home on his cell phone and gets no reply
>What the fuck?
