Good morning, Salamanca.
Time to rise and shine.
I know the sun is bright
In your bleary eyes and
I can smell your hangover
From here.
Miles of gray, pitted highway
Stretch between the two ends of my soul
And I bounce between them
Like a bead of sweat on a guitar string.
The tears that ran so easily
Through Frewsburg and route 62
Have dried up on this desolate stretch of 86.
I know I'll be optimistic again once I hit Olean,
Remembering your well-educated faces, but for now,
Good morning, Salamanca.
The sun shines brightly on your casino windows...
You'd think they could scrape up som epity for me
Like I scraped that sticker off my window.
I got the bill in the mail.
I knew there was a price to be paid,
But Financial Aid never mentioned this.
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