but then again,
he was a selfish breed who heeded the call to any sanctuary that walked him away from all of this,
We took a butcher's knife and we sharpened it good and sharp,
and then we took little jabs at his lips,
he had fissures that needed to be tributaries,
We took our fists and we busted his nose,
until we bought ourselves a new kind of waterfall,
We gutted him like a fish,
with that butcher's knife,
He knew we were ready and willing to finish him off,
but he asked us if we dragged him somewhere,
in place of the marked grave we carved out some time ago,
We said that would be fine,
down by the tracks,
that is what he wanted,
so passersby would know that he had once been,
and that he was now gone,
It was a simple request,
and I was fine with his rigor mortis setting in stateside,
train side,
just as long as he was looking up at the Lord,
instead of down on the rest of us
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