Older brother, restless soul, lie down,
lie for a while with your ear against the earth,
and you hear your sister sleep talking,
say your hair is long but is not long enough,
home to me.
But your beard,
some day might be,
and she woke up in a cold sweat on the floor,
next to a family portrait drawn when you were four,
and beside jar of two cent coins that are no good no more,
she lay aside
Older father, weary soul, you’ll drive
back to the home you made on the mountain side.
With that only terrible thing,
those papers for divorce,
and a lonely ring,
a lonely ring,
sit on your porch,
and pluck your strings.
and you’ll find somebody you can blame
and you’ll follow the creek that runs out into the sea
and you’ll find a piece of the Lord.
Grandfather, gentle soul, you’ll fly
over your life once more before you die
since our grandma passed you’ve waited for forever and a day,
just to die,
and some day soon,
you will die.
but the only woman you ever loved,
that got burnt by the sun too often when she was young,
and the cancer spread already to her body and her blood,
and there’s nothing you can do about it now.