No One To Say it To
Despair is a room in my Father’s house
it’s too long a story to tell standing up
some days it’s like you aren’t even human
but you are you are you are
And you can go tell it now from every mountain
how Linda danced alone in her mobile home
and no one ever checked on her
not once did anyone notice the ghost town she had become
despair just another a room in her bones no one had a key to
And the dark Indiana wind at night rocking smoke stack trailers
till the hills feel what the road can do
when a car goes over like 48 years of mute prayers
chucking itself into the nameless thing
It’s too much to tell standing up
how she never felt human / not once
but she was she was she was
Horror Sleaze Trash 