Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

A Terrible Poem For A Wyoming Rancher

The man dies before the name;
The debt outlives them both.

American death, man:
That shit’ll run ya.
Out of pocket before too long.

We can cure you wholesale.
Is the ranch in your name?
What’s in your name?
Whatever you’ve got,
You don’t need.
But what you have,
You don’t want.
Let’s make a deal:
How much for another year?
Lock these prices in now before the holidays.

Sign over all those cattle,
Or you could maybe sell the car.
Do you have a friend with money?
Or a hat and a guitar?

Well, if you didn’t have the cash,
then who told you to get old?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.