The Mortal Groove

It's half price off on last year's models

There's a geeseful sky and roads of potholes

The town is lean and getting leaner

There is a rank and file demeanor

Countless souls in unkind places

Wearing fixed and angry faces

I tell myself I don't belong

But I am a ghost in this prayer gone wrong...

There's a new restaurant and a new coffee shop

It seems this street is looking up

The new sign says there's "No Smoking"

"No Shirt, No Service" and "Spanish Spoken"

This town was built by steel blue collars

It now competes for the tourist dollars

Love may make the world go round

But like gravity here we're still money bound...

There's talk show hosts and wartime markers

Ways of thinking that force the darkness

Bus stations have sad reputations

Coin laundry pawnshop conversations

Each time this year I hit this mood

It's cabin fever or the mortal groove

Before the spring before winter's done

When something's lost or just hasn't come...