Tuesday: On my way to work

I was on my out of Tennessee
with the tumbleweed winds
and the Eastern sun on me

As the sky lits up like a cigarette
sleepy eyes crawl out of their nest and beds

Then a thought or two springs like poptarts in my head
The breeze is a beach
and the heat is sand
Hit the corner of the street
hide the bunnies with the tambourines
but your name it seems to be
shifting on me

I can't quite put it like a compass with no arrow
life sure is weird down the straight and narrow
Pink butterflies come out in the wind
to built a castle in the sand
or bury me
I'll get right down on it eventually

Your name is out there
I can almost see
but the bunny suit hippie won't play for me
Circus music
and boardwalk feet
I'm on a fork
round about the mid of a mouth
but memory's gone way down south

No I won't play
coz it's a little rough

No I won't say
that's coz it's hidden now

A little earlier back
if you gotten on track
you'd realise a twist
a tumble in the swinging stacks of tires and back

When I wasn't forty three
maybe I was twenty four...

Will it come back
No, I'm not too sure...