Muddy Water by The Ryder McCoy Band

I see ’em up there in the hills.
Two kinds of liars.
One never been in the ditch at all,
just screaming at a phone mount in a lifted truck.
And the other one?
Hell, he crawled out the same mud I did.
He just let 'em wash his face
so he could cry on cue for the award show.

I’m coming.

Up in Tennessee playing internet tough
Dashboard camera rolling while you huff and you puff
Bought the outlaw package off a studio rack
Filming dirt road threats from a cul-de-sac
Drawl laid thick like five-dollar cologne
Playing country gangster off a financed phone
You sing about the ditch, ain't a crease in the leather
Never had to tape up a window for the weather
Yelling at the screen with your beard trimmed neat
Wait until the red clay gets between your teeth
When the porch light pops and the yard dogs hide
And the static on the radio calls you outside

Pretty boy truck talk, time’s all up
Chrome don’t pay the pawn man, a hat don’t make you tough

Can you feel that rattle in the floor?
I’m the muddy water coming under the door
Good book says that we started in the clay
I was carved out the ditch on a bad flood day
Walked through the grease fire, laughed at the flame
You’re a camera filter, boy, I’m the hurricane

I’m the real, motherfucker, coming through the dust
Turning all your shiny little trophies into rust

Then there’s the big man singing from a Nashville stage
Used to rattle that iron in a county cage
Now he’s hugging on the suits, playing preacher in the light
Selling watered-down sin to the suburbs every night
Yeah, the scars on your knuckles and the ink are real
But you traded in your teeth for a publishing deal
Put a leash on the dog, put a bow on the pain
Crying right on schedule for the money train
Unc said you can scrub a killer down with lye
Dress him up in velvet for the Opry sky
Take the boy out the gutter, pay the man his fee
But the hood still twitches when the cameras leave

Sold-out street talk, time’s all up
Gold plaques on the wall don't make you tough

Can you feel that rattle in the floor?
I’m the muddy water coming under the door
Good book says that we started in the clay
I was carved out the ditch on a bad flood day
Walked through the grease fire, laughed at the flame
You’re a camera filter, boy, I’m the hurricane

I’m the real, motherfucker, coming through the dust
Turning all your shiny little trophies into rust

One of you is faking the scars.
The other one is faking the halo.
Trying to hide the cell block behind a gospel choir.
Even Wanda’s laughing by the barrel fire.
Because the ditch knows who never touched it.
And the mud knows who sold it out.
You can smile for the folks in the front row all you want.
We still see the shooter underneath that suit.

Can you feel that rattle in the floor?
I’m the muddy water coming under the door
Good book says that we started in the clay
I was carved out the ditch on a bad flood day
Walked through the grease fire, laughed at the flame
You’re a camera filter, boy, I’m the hurricane
Tennessee truck talk, time’s all up
Nashville handshakes don't make you tough

I’m the real, motherfucker, coming through the dust
Turning all your shiny little trophies into rust
I’m the flood in the kitchen when the fake ones fold

Take the thug out the ditch.
Put him under the lights.
Mud still shows through the paint, boy.
Every time.

Yeah...
Just 'cause a man ain't talkin' don't mean the chamber's empty.
Time don't lecture nobody. It just leaves the bill on the counter.
Once you know what your own shadow weighs, you quit walking in somebody else’s ruts.

I was raised to watch the hands, not the mouth running loud,
Seen 'em switch their whole religion when the weather turned foul.
Keep a chair by the stove for the ones who helped you push the truck,
Leave the ones who sold your name out in the briars and the muck.
Not every hand reaching down wants to pull you out the clay,
Some of 'em just checking your pockets while you’re bleeding away.
So I leaned against the freezer at the Texaco and let the weeks talk,
Words can lie through their teeth, watch how a man walks.

My word is the scale, my intent is the weight,
I won't pawn my own name even when the light bill’s late.
The mud taught me yesterday, the flood’s coming soon,
Got my heels on the floorboards in a quiet room.

How many boys hit a lick and forgot who held the light?
How many sat quiet in the dark till the morning came right?
I ain't scared of starting over with a bucket and a wrench,
What scares me is sitting fifty years on the exact same bench.
Cash blows through like ragweed, faces fade in the glass,
Sink your taproot past the stone before the storm blows past.
Anybody can swing a crowbar and call himself the king of the yard,
Real power is having the drop on 'em and leaving the iron in the car.

My word is the scale, my intent is the weight,
I won't pawn my own name even when the light bill’s late.
The mud taught me yesterday, the flood’s coming soon,
Got my heels on the floorboards in a quiet room.

Listen here...
A dry well ain't a grave, and sitting alone on the tailgate ain't a curse.
Watch that pride, boy.
I seen hawks get tangled in the power lines thinking they owned the sky.
Keep the pilot light lit behind your ribs, even when the red dust gets thick.

Now I know my own mileage, quit chasing taillights down the hill,
I ain't trading in my spine just to split a crooked bill.
I weigh a sentence like Unc weighs scrap copper on the hook,
Some things stay in the creek bed, some things go in the book.
Unc said the Lord puts the timber in the woods, sure enough,
But you still gotta swing the axe if you want the stove hot when it's rough.
I don't want a crown or a leash on another man's neck,
Just my own steering wheel and my conscience in check.

My word is the scale, my intent is the weight,
I won't pawn my own name even when the light bill’s late.
Let the work do the talking, let the calendar tell the tale,
I’ll die standing in my own boots. This name ain't for sale.

Don't matter how many titles are in the glovebox, or who’s drinking your beer.
What matters is three in the morning when the radio goes dead...
And you look in that cracked bathroom mirror.
Do you know the man looking back?
Yeah.
My word is the scale.
Everything else is just weather.

Devil in the doorway, shadows creep thin,
Bags gone again, trouble 'bout to begin.
Clanton caught scrappin’, fists on the wind,
Another trip for the bag, lost in the spin.

Bags gone again, like a ghost in the mist,
Girl, you keep losin’ it, every chance missed.
How many times till the cycle gonna end?
Devil in the house, bags gone again.

Smoke in the alley, moonlight’s dim,
Empty-handed, fate’s looking grim.
We ride out searching, like wolves in the den,
But the bag’s always missin’, lost once again.

Bags gone again, trouble knocking loud,
Devil’s in the room, hiding in the crowd.
Girl, you keep slippin’, playing pretend,
Bags gone again, it’s a story with no end.

Trip after trip, chasing shadows in the night,
Scrapin’ through the dirt, no end in sight.
The devil laughs low, says, "Let’s make amends,"
But the bag’s gone again, we just startin’ trends.

Bags gone again, like a loop on repeat,
Chasin’ it down, but it’s quick on its feet.
How many times till the story makes sense?
Devil in the house, bags gone again.

(Wash me in the... wash me in the... wash me in the water...)
(Wash me in the... wash me in the... mud...)

Yeah...
Tape keeps catching on the roller.
Been sitting at this stop sign since Tuesday.

Red light blinking on the dash-dash-dashboard
Power Steering whining like a stray dog in the yard
Unc left a shovel in the back of the El Camino
Mud up to thelug-lug-lug-nuts, nowhere left to go
Ceiling fan wobbling on a bent brass rod
Every rotation saying something about God
(Wash me in the... wash me in the...)
Got a pocket full of fuses and a dead flashlight
Three days staring at the same porch light
Mosquitoes in the Flood trying to drink what's in my vein
If they take a little sip, they gon' go insane

(No way out... no-no-no way out...)
Tires spinning...
Tires spinning in the clay...
Transmission slipping...
Slipping-slipping away...

Stuck in the spool, let the tape drag slow
Down in the bottom where the pine trees grow
(Down in the... down in the bottom...)
Mud on the boots, got the Blood on the floor
Shadow in the carport knocking at the door
Can't wake up, yeah the air's too thick
Stuck in the ditch-ditch, stuck in the ditch
(Wash me in the... wash me in the mud...)

Wanda at the kitchen table scraping off a ticket
Silver dust falling where the roaches come and lick it
Radio tuned between two dead stations
Static talking back like my old relations
(Hear my voice... hear-hear my voice...)
Pawn ticket yellow in the ashtray grease
Thirty-eight special missing one small piece
Ryder on the couch with his boots still laced
Looking like a photograph somebody erased
Box fan humming in the window frame
Every time it rattles, man, it says my name
Says my na-na-name...

(No way out... no-no-no way out...)
Tires spinning...
Tires spinning in the clay...
Transmission slipping...
Slipping-slipping away...

Stuck in the spool, let the tape drag slow
Down in the bottom where the pine trees grow
(Down in the... down in the bottom...)
Mud on the boots, got the Blood on the floor
Shadow in the carport knocking at the door
Can't wake up, yeah the air's too thick
Stuck in the ditch-ditch, stuck in the ditch
(Wash me in the... wash me in the mud...)

(Time don't move... time-time don't move...)
(Sun don't rise... sun-sun don't rise...)

Looked out the window and the yard was flat.
Hat Man standing by the water meter cap.
Didn't want money. Didn't want my soul.
Just asked if I had a cigarette to roll.

(Wash me in the... wash me in the...)
Stuck in the spool...
(Down in the... down in the...)
Tape dragged out...
Battery dead in the driveway.
(No-no-no way out...)

Jessie been up since Tuesday.
Says the sky's got a leak in it.
Y'all better look at the creek.

Three days awake on a busted spring couch
Foil on the table and a dry cotton mouth
Jessie got her boots on, laces untied
Watching seven pale horses through the aluminum blind

Screen door bangs and she steps in the clay
Pawn shop ring and there's hell to pay
Prophet on the AM static and bone
Saying nobody gets out of Slapout alone

The Flood's coming up, the routine's gone flat
Shadow in the pines wearing Unc's old hat
You can blame the glass pipe, you can blame the heat
But something big is moving underneath her feet

Walking through the signs toward Revelation
Past the burnt-out hulls and the filling station
Roosters in the pit throwing blood in the dirt
Jessie got the end of the world on her shirt
Yeah, she saw dragons come up from Bird Creek
Seven red heads and they're looking to speak

Lanterns in the barn where the gamecocks fight
Hundred-dollar bills in the bug-zapper light
Feathers in the mud, steel spurs on the heel
Men screaming bets like the devil's at the wheel

Jessie walks past, doesn't look at the ring
Listening to the locusts in the power lines sing
Tire fire burning like a biblical star
Melting down the bumper of a '98 car

The Flood's coming up, the routine's gone flat
Wanda's on the porch with a three-legged cat
You can say she's strung out, stuck in a ditch
But the water's boiling over by the railroad switch

Walking through the signs toward Revelation
Past the burnt-out hulls and the filling station
Roosters in the pit throwing blood in the dirt
Jessie got the end of the world on her shirt
Yeah, she saw dragons come up from Bird Creek
Seven red heads and they're looking to speak

Crawled out the culvert by the old bridge pilings
Scales made of rust and themud-water boiling
Breathing out smoke that smells like acetone
Right where Ryder left his truck on blocks of stone
Is it in the dope or is it in the water?
Jessie just laughs like the Apocalypse daughter

Sun coming up like a copper-head eye
Fourteen buzzards in a bleach-white sky
Jessie at the bank with her toes in the foam
Waiting on the beast to carry her home

Walking through the signs toward Revelation
Past the burnt-out hulls and the filling station
Roosters in the pit throwing blood in the dirt
Jessie got the end of the world on her shirt
Yeah, she saw dragons come up from Bird Creek
Seven red heads and they're looking to speak

Up from Bird Creek.
Scales in the red mud.
Feathers in the ditch.
Jessie saw 'em.
Yeah, Jessie saw 'em.

Yeah... I seen it comin’ down the dirt road again...

Rusted Crown Vic sittin’ crooked on cinder blocks
Silver spoon burned black on a crushed RC Cola can
Tommy Two Fang dancin’ with the Beast under the broke streetlight
Talkin’ in tongues to the wasps nest, callin’ it the Rapture

He says the pipe’s his cross tonight
Chemical communion drippin’ down his chin
Glitter in his veins, think he winnin’ this fight
But the mud already got plans for him

Baptized in dirt and flame, Lord have mercy on his name
808s hittin’ like judgment day, swamp water risin’ in his brain
He ridin’ that synthetic heaven, but the fall comin’ fast
One minute at a time, baby... this the life that last

Prophet in the trailer park, preachin’ to the Frigidaire!
The Beast talkin’ back through the static, sayin’ “boy you mine”
Worm crawlin’ in his shadow, glitter stuck to the welfare chair
He baptizin’ spoons in flame, speakin’ that synthetic divine!

Late stage now... eyes gone flat like old pennies
Staring through the screen door at nothin’ but the end
One minute. One minute. One minute at a time...
Serving life in the chemical amen

Baptized in dirt and flame, Lord have mercy on his name
808s hittin’ like judgment day, swamp water risin’ in his brain
He ridin’ that synthetic heaven, but the fall comin’ fast
One minute at a time, baby... this the life that last

Yeah... I seen it comin’ down the dirt road again...

They say the pale horse runs fast.
Out here in Slapout, the red clay slows him down just enough to make it interesting.
Ain't shut my eyes since Tuesday.
The pine trees are starting to lean in.
Yeah. Check the pulse.

Sweat stinging my eyes, the air tastes like copper
Glass rolling in my palm, waiting on the topper
Shadow People in the kudzu, shifting when I blink
Temp gauge buried in the red, forty miles past the brink
Unc said it’s just the sleep debt, I know it’s something worse
Got the Hat Man in the rearview pacing this old hearse
Pocket full of clear and a skull full of static
Alternator whining like a cornered fanatic
Spinning bald tires, digging ruts down in the clay
Flood water rising, washing Friday all away
Stuck in a ditch inside my head, staring at the dash
Watching thirty-six hours burn down into ash
The radio knows my middle name, it’s whispering the route
Dancing with the wiring till the fuses all blow out

Ain’t no mercy at the bottom of a zip-lock bag
Just a heavy-footed hustle and a soaked shop rag
I’m running from the Reaper, but he’s riding in the back
Grinding down the gravel on a single-lane track
Yeah, the Mud’s getting deep and the Flood’s coming cold
Pawned the catalytic converter just to watch the night unfold
Foot buried in the floorboard, praying to the pines
Trying to beat The Other Place to the county lines

Heart knocking like a rod about to throw the block
Three-day shadow staring at a broken dashboard clock
Wanda left the porch light yellow just to keep the ghosts at bay
passed her trailer doing eighty, headed the wrong way
See faces in the fog when the Bic sparks the bowl
Trading off the spare parts left inside my soul
Heavy 808 rattling the rust off the door
Boots pacing circles through a soft plywood floor
Someone’s tapping on the passenger glass in the dark
Holding out a pawn ticket, waiting on a spark
I kick the four-barrel open, let the intake scream
Halfway to a prophet in a lithium dream
I ain't ready for the shovel, I ain't ready for the clay
So I’m taping up the mirrors and I’m driving till it’s day

You can ditch the county deputies, you can kill the running lights.
You can hide behind the propane tank for seven straight nights.
But the Reaper knows the logging roads, he knows the swamp by heart.
He don’t even have to chase you. He just waits for the transmission to drop out.
Take a breath.
Hold the smoke.
Put it in gear.

Ain’t no mercy at the bottom of a zip-lock bag
Just a heavy-footed hustle and a soaked shop rag
I’m running from the Reaper, but he’s riding in the back
Grinding down the gravel on a single-lane track
Yeah, the Mud’s getting deep and the Flood’s coming cold
Pawned the catalytic converter just to watch the night unfold
Foot buried in the floorboard, praying to the pines
Trying to beat The Other Place to the county lines

Still ticking.
Slipped him at the bridge.
Or maybe he just let me get ahead a little.
The woods are deep out here.
Just don't look in the backseat.
Slapout.

Too many nights
and not enough dark
to hide in.
Something's been talking
just outside the room.

Setting in the confusion
of too many sleepless nights
every whisper around me
sounds ready for a fight
Ain't slept right in days
eyes burning dry and mean
wall corners breathing slow
things shifting in between
I'm tired of all the shadows
and the shit they say
They love to talk slick
love to pull my head sideways
Love to tap at the window
love to move at the door
love to stand in the hallway
like they been here before

You hear that...?
You hear that...?

Yeah...
and I ain't alone no more.

Something's pulling
from the other side
Black room calling
with its mouth open wide
Every night deeper
every step gone wrong
Feels like that shadow world
been learning my name too long
I can feel it breathing
right under my skin
That other place
keeps trying to let me in

Mirror got strange
around quarter to three
My face stayed still
but my eyes weren't me
TV talking low
with the sound cut down
Thought I saw a hand
slide under the bedroom door and back out
Ceiling fan chopping
up the heat in strips
Whispers in the corners
moving fast as lips
They don't ever say much clear
just enough to turn me
just enough to make me check
every room behind me
Pulled the curtain back
thought the yard was full
but it was just moonlight
hitting dead grass wrong
Still...
I swear on it
something out there smiled
when I looked too long

Don't let it name you...

Too late for that now.

Something's pulling
from the other side
Black room calling
with its mouth open wide
Every night deeper
every step gone wrong
Feels like that shadow world
been learning my name too long
I can feel it breathing
right under my skin
That other place
keeps trying to let me in

I used to think
it was just no sleep...
just nerves...
just too much smoke...
just my mind eating itself alive...
But the air changed.
Walls got thinner.
Silence got heavy.
And now when I close my eyes...
I don't fall asleep...
I cross over.

Now the night's got layers
I can walk straight through
One for the highway
one for the room
one for the things
that ain't meant for you
Shadows don't scare me
like they did before
That's what scares me now
I know their shapes too well
I know which one laughs
I know which one waits
I know which one stands
by the sink past eight
And every sleepless sunrise
feels less like grace
more like getting dragged back
from some unfinished place
I ain't saying
I've gone under
I'm saying
something over there
finally noticed
I can hear it

Something's pulling
from the other side
Black room calling
with its mouth open wide
Every night deeper
every step gone wrong
Feels like that shadow world
been learning my name too long
I can feel it breathing
right under my skin
That other place
ain't knocking now
it's coming in

If I go missing...
I won't be far.
Just somewhere
behind the walls
where the dark
learned how to talk.

Four days without sleep.
The wires are humming so loud I can't hear my own blood.
Something's coming through the trees.

Ninety-six hours and the shadows are detaching from the wall
Every nerve in my body is a live wire ready to fall
Hear the voices in the ductwork whispering the things I’ve done
Nowhere left to hide when your own mind is the loaded gun
Walked out past the gravel where the blacktop meets the weeds
Tryna outrun the static and the terror that it feeds
My vision went white and my knees gave out in the rain
Slid down the embankment to the bottom of the culvert drain

Laying on my back in the cold red mud and the stone
Breathing in the dark, completely broken and alone

Down in the ditch where the earth swallows up the sound
Staring at the heavens from a hole in the ground
When the mind gives way and the veil gets torn in two
There ain't nothing left between the judgment and you
Down in the mud where the wicked and the weary lay
Waiting on the word that's gonna burn the world away

Then the rain just stopped, hanging frozen in the air
And the clouds rolled back like a scroll above me there
The sky split open to a blinding, terrible light
Brighter than a furnace in the middle of the night
I saw a mighty angel coming down from the throne
Wrapped in a cloud with a face like burning stone
Pillars of fire where his feet touched the ground
He looked straight into the ditch and the thunder shook the town
He raised his right hand to the heavens and he swore
Opened up his mouth and the voice was a roar:

ירְאוּ אֶת־הָאֱלֹהִים וְתנוּ־לוֹ כָבוֹד
כִּי בָאָה שְׁעַת מִשְׁפָּטוֹ
חַי הָעוֹלָמִים אֲשֶׁר בָּרָא אֶת־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת־הָאָרֶץ
לֹא יִהְיֶה עוֹד זְמַן
כִּי כָלָה סוֹד הָאֱלֹהִים
כִּי כָלָה סוֹד הָאֱלֹהִים
וְנָפְלָה נָפְלָה בָּבֶל הַגְּדוֹלָה
כִּי־בָא יוֹם הָעֶבְרָה הַגָּדוֹל
וּמִי יוּכַל לַעֲמֹד

The light snapped shut and the darkness hit my chest
Gasping for breath like my ribs were in a press
The rain came crashing back down on my face
Just the cold muddy water at the bottom of the place
My hands were shaking as I dug into the clay
Pulled my body up the bank where the roots gave way
Crawled out on the shoulder on my hands and my knees
Nothing up above me now but the wind in the trees

Down in the ditch where the earth swallows up the sound
Staring at the heavens from a hole in the ground
When the mind gives way and the veil gets torn in two
There ain't nothing left between the judgment and you
Down in the mud where the wicked and the weary lay
Waiting on the word that's gonna burn the world away

I'm out of the ditch.
Bleeding on the gravel.
They can call it madness if they want to.
I know what I saw.
I know what he said.

(in the mud... in the mud... stay down...)

Look at the gauge on the wall.

Look at the gauge on the wall.
(on the wall... on the wall...)
You can't pay a debt with a pawn ticket, son.
Not when the water's already under the door.
(under the door... yeah...)

Ryder got his boots on the dashboard... waiting on the sun
(waiting on the sun... waiting on the sun...)
Three days awake and the shadow people... ain't the only ones
(ain't the only ones... no...)
Unc is in the yard with a shovel and a five-gallon pail
Looking for a waterline buried underneath the shale
Wanda said the television talked to her... right after the news
(right after the news... told the truth...)
When the screen went gray... and the transformer blew

You hear the ceiling fan clicking like a cocked-back hammer
(like a hammer... like a hammer...)
Every crooked thing talking in a backwoods grammar
When the Flood comes up, it don't come from the creek
(from the creek... no...)
It comes up through the floorboards while you're trying to sleep

Deep in the ditch with the tail lights red!
(tail lights red... tail lights red...)
Counting up the living and the hampir-dead!
(in the mud... in the mud...)
You can't wash Blood off a rusted chain
When the Other Place knows your government name!
Yeah, keep it in low... let the tires just spin
(let 'em spin... let 'em spin...)
That's where the county ends and the dark begins.

Zilla left a jackpot sitting on the linoleum floor
(on the floor... walk away...)
Four tens and a joker taped up to the screen door
Hat Man standing out by the... rusted-out Dodge
(by the Dodge... watching you...)
Looking like a deacon from a burned-down lodge
You try to run a hustle on a man with no face
(got no face... got no name...)
You end up another hubcap... nailed to the place

You hear the ceiling fan clicking like a cocked-back hammer
(like a hammer... like a hammer...)
Every crooked thing talking in a backwoods grammar
When the Flood comes up, it don't come from the creek
(from the creek... no...)
It comes up through the floorboards while you're trying to sleep

Deep in the ditch with the tail lights red!
(tail lights red... tail lights red...)
Counting up the living and the hampir-dead!
(in the mud... in the mud...)
You can't wash Blood off a rusted chain
When the Other Place knows your government name!
Yeah, keep it in low... let the tires just spin
(let 'em spin... let 'em spin...)
That's where the county ends and the dark begins.

Don't look at the Waffle House sign...
(don't look... don't look...)
Half the letters burned out... spelling out a warning.
(spelling out a warning...)
You're either Flat on the couch... or you're deep in the Flood.
Ain't no high ground left in this red clay mud.
(in the mud... in the mud... amen...)

Deep in the ditch with the tail lights red!
(tail lights red... tail lights red...)
Counting up the living and the hampir-dead!
(in the mud... in the mud...)
You can't wash Blood off a rusted chain
When the Other Place knows your government name!
Yeah, keep it in low... let the tires just spin
(let 'em spin... let 'em spin...)
That's where the county ends and the dark begins.

(let 'em spin... let 'em spin... in the mud...)
Turn the porch light off, Wanda.
(turn it off... turn it off...)
They already know we're home.

SOUTH AIN’T HEAVEN

Woke in a trailer with rain in the bed,
A shotgun preacher sat watching the shed.
Said, “You been talking all night in your sleep.”
I asked what I told him.
He said, “You tell me.”

Bible-page patches where the windows broke,
Coffee can full of his cigarette smoke.
He laid out a map on a folding chair,
My own damn writing said, DON’T GO THERE.
I said, “I need somewhere nobody knows.”
He laughed so hard that his bad eye closed.
“Take that flask. Keep the ditch on your right.
There’s a woman past Slapout buys pieces of nights.”

Dogs barked sermons in the gospel of dusk,
A Chevrolet sank to its doors in the rust.
I walked past the place where the streetlights quit,
With a whole bad night I was trying to forget.

The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me here.
Something in the water
Keeps calling me near.
I came for forgetting,
They pulled up a chair.
The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me there.

She wore a red dress and convenience-store shoes,
Sold boiled peanuts and yesterday’s news.
Said, “Give me the night. I can make it go.”
Then she named somebody she couldn’t know.
I reached for the flask. She covered the cap.
“You lose his laugh if I take all that.”
I stood with my money rolled tight in my hand.
She pointed downstream.
“Go talk to the man.”

Found him asleep where the footbridge leaned,
A gator in a crown made of trotline string.
One gold tooth and a mouth full of mud,
My old truck keys lay under his tongue.
He said, “You can cross if you leave me the lie.”
I said, “Wasn’t me.”
He opened one eye.
The boards started shaking beneath my feet.
“All right. I was driving.”
He let go of the keys.

The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me here.
Something in the water
Keeps calling me near.
I came for forgetting,
They pulled up a chair.
The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me there.

My dead folks sat round a cable-spool table,
One chair rocked with nobody in it.
Granddad worked on a knife with no handle.
Nobody spoke for a good long minute.
I started the story I’d told back home.
Mama’s daddy said, “Leave that part alone.”
Then somebody asked what I’d come there to do.
“Find out if he blamed me.”
“Son, we ain’t him.”

The lightkeeper lived up a red-clay grade,
Changed porch bulbs for the folks who stayed.
He was up on a ladder in house shoes and jeans.
Said, “Hold this steady. Hand that one to me.”
I asked if the dead ever answered him back.
He climbed down slow, put the bulb in a sack.
“Your brother’s still living on County Road Ten.
You could go ask him.”
It started raining again.

The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me here.
Something in the water
Keeps calling me near.
I came for forgetting,
They pulled up a chair.
The South ain’t heaven,
But they know me there.

His ramp was slick, so I took it slow.
A blue light flickered through the window.
Set that unopened flask by the rail.
He called, “Who is it?”
I said, “Ryder.”
Then I stayed.

“Ryder.
You been standin’ at that window
since the freezer quit.”

Third night up, couldn’t work my jaw
Blue torch hiss by a bent bendy straw
Fridge quit hummin’, then the dogs went still
Something white stepped over the hill
Two long fires where the pines should be
Screen door bowed like it wanted to breathe
I grabbed that sink when the roof pulled wide
There stood a thing with the stars inside

Your cigarette burned through the chair
You kept pointin’ at empty air
I heard the tin start comin’ loose
You said, “It’s lookin’ through the roof.”

Leave that porch light on
Leave that porch light on
If you hear me in the yard
Keep on talkin’ till I’m home
Somethin’s standin’ in the pines
Tall enough to hide the moon
Leave that porch light on
I can hear you through the room

Wings spread out past the county line
Every feather had an eye like mine
No mouth moved, but the windows shook
Pawn slips lifted from the book
Big brass sound from beneath the ground
My own name with the edges ground down
Held one hand over County Road Eight
Saw my truck through a hole in its face

אַל תִּירָא, אֲנִי כָּאן
שְׁמַע אֶת קוֹלִי
חֲזֹר הַבַּיְתָה
הָאוֹר עוֹד דּוֹלֵק בַּחַלּוֹן

“Look at me.
That’s the kitchen.
That’s my hand.”

Cold floor tile and a wet washcloth
One bare bulb with a shirt pulled across
Jessie sat with her boots still tied
Gray came up through the busted blinds
Asked, “Did you hear what it said out there?”
She picked the burnt foam out of the chair
Said, “You been gone since a quarter past two.
I kept that light on. Made coffee, too.”

Leave that porch light on
Leave that porch light on
If you hear me in the yard
Keep on talkin’ till I’m home
Somethin’s standin’ in the pines
Tall enough to hide the moon
Leave that porch light on
I can hear you through the room

Daylight caught that window screen
Two pale feathers in the seam
Jessie pulled one loose and said,
“Damn pillow’s bust again.”