Bright Eyes

Poison Oak some boyhood bravery.
when the telephone was a tin can on a string.
and I fell asleep with you still talking to me.
you said you weren't afraid to die.
In polaroids you were dressed in women's clothes.
were you made ashamed whyd you lock them in the drawer.
And I don't think that I ever loved you more.
Than when you turned away.
When you slammed the door.
When you stole the car drove towards Mexico.
And you wrote bad checks just to fill your arm.
I was young then I still believed in war.
But let the poets cry themselves to sleep.