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Stood Their Singing

“Music a Lady Leaves To”
is all scratched, is in ruins,
but it was never easy to listen to
anyway,
never easy to leave to
anyway.

I don’t remember where to buy them,
The cigarettes that go out when I need them most
And come back in when I wanna be in love, and then
They just sleep the week in my coat.

Go down to the Whiskeytown to feel O.K.
And fuel up on not-minding-the-wait
And a different shade of blue for each day
And the three sisters who sing Saturdays

And I think
How much I wish for any of it,
Even the worst bit,
Because by now it’s gone to shit;
There’s not even anything to fix.

I tune into the girls like a radio
This one is the ammo
This one is the halo
And This one cried “love me” all the way home.

I stood their singing for a little bit
Then their voices went out like cigarettes.
It’s her own chords a lady leaves to, but isn’t it
A different shade of blue sticks in her head

All the way home
All the way home.

Carbon