Pat and Billy

Were best of friends

Why do all good things have end?

Let's all be outlaws once again

At least

Turn a blind eye now and then

A gesture Pat just couldn't give

He couldn't let young Billy live

Top of the mountain

Head in the clouds

Kissed by an Angel

Head spinning 'round

Falling

Falling

Metaphorically down

In the arms of an Angel

We've yet to hit ground

With a one-eyed dog

And just his clothes

Off in search

Of his Desert Rose

Across the Great Expanse he goes

Holes in his shoes

And three sore toes

Off in search

Of his Desert Rose

Like tumbleweed drifting

When the wind blows

His course isn't set

But at least he knows

He's off in search

Of his Desert Rose

A blackbird cries

And reminds Her

Of time

And of times much brighter

Skies were bluer

Clouds were whiter

There was still

A dream inside Her

Words were slung

To pierce the heart

Unlike the words

Thrown at the start

How they landed

So far apart

She looked

Like a million bucks

Back when a million bucks

Was something

Back when we all had nothing

And everything

To gain

Or lose

He whispered

Don't be scared

His breath tickling

The back of my hair

As I sat in my first

Barbershop chair

Stories from the past

Aren't easy to tell

Most of my stories

Did not end so well

I searched for Heaven

But only found Hell

And not much comfort

In an 8 by 10 cell