We never talk about
The days of old
The times we shared
Willows, We’re told

You never talk about
When your dad left home
Hit the road
Fallin over my stones

We never talk about
What we should’ve done
instead sticking flowers
in the end of their guns

because he died from daisy
straight to the heart
bled over the rose-bed
under my stars

so he’ll sleep forever
like the days of old
with a flag as his blanket
at least he’s comin home

and he’s not in pieces
out in the street
with the black hawks pourin down
on the beat

but then you told me
that the shah of iran
was the bodyguard
at his wedding man

and I still remember bout
waiting for Tommy gun
the dimestone novel
You haven’t begun