Cut Them Down in the Passes

his face is dark, impenetrable
he likes to look like someone who has seen too much
his hair slicked back, black, held on to him like a cap
he gave the vague impression of being out of touch
and he cut himself shaving this morning
singing into the mirror with all of the joy of being alone

he's thirty five years young with a sloppy toothpaste tongue
and he chuckles at the speckles of his blood
amongst the freckles on his neck
his marriage is wrecked admittedly
but surely there are still reasons to sing
good reasons to sing
his throat pours
of course he is still an innocent
he doesn't save his time he spends it
he is still an innocent
so he stands and there he sings
with the condensation rising all around him from the sink
his wife ran off and left him but he's happy as hell this morning
with his father in the mirror and his song, singing

we will cut them down in the passes
just as his father had sung once to him
singing we will cut them down in the passes
with the condensation rising all around him from the sink

from the cattle call to the lake at the perimeter
from deep in the belly of summer to the frozen fingertips of winter
we will make a fool out of you yet
I would bet on it with the last coin I have left
we will cut them down in the passes
just as his father had sung once to him
singing we will cut them down in the passes
with the condensation rising all around him from the sink
we will cut them down in the passes
singing we will cut them down in the passes