Beds are Burning

What’s that sound?

Oh, we’re burning your bed

They said

And I couldn’t wrap that

Around my head

Or vice versa

Instead

Like Willy Wonka might have said

Back when he was Gene Wilder

And I was more childer

I guess

We moved that bed from Nebraska

Took it to Alaska

And on to Alabama

With a banjo on our knee

Well, not me

Or anyone in my family,

Really

But we moved it

And then we moved it again

To the place it would meet its end

South Dakota

The state where they don’t have a pro football team

Because if they did

Minnesota and Colorado would want one, too…

What’s a fella to do?

Cheer for Dallas along with the rest of America,

I guess

But I digress

Fast forward some years

And I’m off to slip the surly bonds

To do a hundred things

I have not dreamed of

I finally say

One day

Moving far away

Em

Eye

Crooked letter

Crooked letter

Eye

Crooked letter

Crooked letter

Eye

Humpback

Humpback

Eye

Eye probably won’t be back to stay,

I say

In a lumped-throat kinda way

Oh, we’re so proud of you son

Just look what you’ve done!

And I got in my car and drove off

To the place where the surly bonds lived

The land of ems and eyes and crooked letters and humpbacks

A couple sacks

Of worldly goods

In my trunk

So when I called today

To say

I’m okay

And I made it all the way…

Through the line

I could hear

The crackling fire

And knew

It was my childhood

On top of the pyre

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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