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Days Come Down
por
Matthew Good
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They buried me In a suit made of old lighters And magazines Mostly pages of Mother Jones And The Nation Better Living, bits of patience Which you'll need Drove away in the Valiant My old man that he gave me Slant six, busted tail light Ivory green When the days come down And we're laid right out Catch you catching me When the days come down I was interred In a church without no ceiling With a bear who was out eating Watching from the trees As I stood upon the water There silhouettes, my daughter Waving back at me Well, sometimes I get it What it is I came for Like the screaming of your first born Sounds like singing When the days come out And you're laid right out Catch you catching me When the days come down Catch you catching me, oh When they catch you catching me Gonna catch you catching me, oh Gonna catch you catching me Gonna catch you catching me, oh Gonna catch you catching me
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