Starkville

If you were here in Starkville,
the townie boys would love the way you stare.
If you were here in Starkville,
the local girls,
they wouldn't have a prayer.
I spent a restless night inside the wonder of
your everlasting charm,
now I'm haunted by geography,
and the flora and the fauna of your heart.
At the dawning of some road-worn day,
I called you on a whim just to say,
"The morning birds are singing,"
but I could not do them justice,
so I hung up and fell back to sleep.
I'm in love with my mobility,
but sometimes this life can be a drag;
like when I noticed your nobility
and how my leaving only held you back.
I remember one occasion-you were drinking-
when you asked me to the coast,
but I was hell-bent on agony back then,
so I missed the boat.
At the dawning of a road-worn day,
I called you on a whim just to say,
"My regrets become distractions when I cannot do them justice,"
then I hung up and fell back to sleep.
When I was down in Starkville,
I was hiding out inside some Comfort Inn
from a local gang of troubadors,
when the homecoming queen-
she come riding in.
I slipped out of my room into the rain
and I went running for my health,
the headlights turned to moonlight,
and finally I was running by myself.
At the dawning of some road-worn day,
I call you on a whim just to say,
"The morning birds are singing."