I summered ’93 off of Diana street at grandma’s house.
Weekdays I was dropped at the bottom of her flowered circle drive.
Me and two other boys split a set of fatigues, I got the boots.
Marched the dew into earth on our way back out the behind the yard.

Crossed the moldy bath, the 8x8 veggie patch, the tree we marked.
Adam walked out front, cleared paths with a pocket knife.
I brushed against jagged limbs, tore my sleeves to shreds, made up a few
stories of hunting wolves out in some fictitious uncle’s woods.

Hours in we heard an animal cry behind some brush.
We huddled close, eyes as wide as our mouths. Inched closer to the sound.
Saw one leg twitching fast and the other a stump, a coyote maimed.
Ethan ran, Adam put it to death with a rock. I was in between.

Now the paved roads cut into those trees.
I suspect the weight of it all has changed.
I could pass by every day for weeks,
and I’ll know it’s me who is not the same.


Lyrics submitted by Hegowski

Mim's Woods song meanings
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