an eight ball and two and all is how i measure the length that i must go to outrun you standing still a soft flight and such delight a nervous gesture that dropped me to my knees now i wonder where you are tonight a hard fall and through it all i never felt so callous a cut sleeve and to believe and once again i walked home alone this old world counts for nothing i did all i could do now i won t accept your blessing on this our final night won t live to see the light of morning so i cling to apron strings as i recall my father s dying words some girls are sweet some girls are wicked from this tree comes ill bred seed an ugly cloister of flat foot bookish boys who d as soon kick you as kiss you 
['montana indie', 'montana roots']