Lyrics
I am a gas station poet
Spitting rhymes the roses
By the register
That drunk lover buys
In a last ditch effort
To keep her tethered
To him
But she’s a road dog on the rise
I watch all of the lonely ones
Fill up and fly right
Best they can
In a tin can dream
On corn nuts and protein
On their way down to Abilene
Where the Buffalo roam
And the clouds are made of foam
I’m a gas station poet
And wouldn’t you know it
I got nowhere to be
I got no one I need to see
So I’m fogging up these fridges
Regretting burned bridges again
Trying to still my thoughts
In the deep freeze
The needy sugar aisle
Bad coffee and turnstiles
I’m philosophizing
In this simple place
Where I know
These pumped out fossils
Move these pimped out rides
Down the dusty demise
of the human race
I’m just a gas station poet
Out here in the margin
I ain’t home on the range
Out in the desert again
chasing that chump change
Dead bugs on the windshield
I’ll take a fiver from the till
And move on
I guess I still
Believe in love
I guess
I’m still