Henry’s grave says Don’t Try
He might be right but I guess
He still died
He drank too much and
Wrote a lot about his life
He wrote about his dad
And he wrote about the horse track
He wrote about the beauty of
A freckle on a whore’s back
I guess that life is just that
Horses, whores and daddy’s belt strap
On repeat until it goes black
Don’t Try he said
Don’t Try he said
