Shoot a 45

all the fields you pass
and crash
like you're supposed to

I know that much
I want it back
I know that much
I want it back

you won a ticker tape parade
you paid
in triplicate

but your undershirt is choked
with the poems that you wrote
in red

and you roll your eyes
and you cross your Ts
for me

shoot a 45
and drive
out past nothing

I know that much
I want it back
I know that much
I want it back