Rhythm and Rhymes

Barren trees, dried blowing leaves, municipal fees, choppy seas

And knees scraped up from crawling out the door

Financial tools, broken rules, vocational schools, obnoxious fools

On barstools buying shots for the local whore

Perpetual motion, blurry commotion, a scented potion, crosses an ocean

With a misguided notion and a list of perfect crimes

Dark afternoons, Bob Dylan tunes, December moons, clocks and spoons

And platoons in their sharp pressed uniforms back me into rhythm and rhymes

You'd better watch out

It feels like I'm coming home

Without a doubt