Like a bankroll twisting&peeling off, like green wings behind me. The sun was shining down on my blue car all the way in from Hill Country. Rolled the window down,
This is bat weather.
Need no more reason to stay. That they hang under there, cool&fine, during the brutal summer days. That they split in November when days darken and the sun pales.
No more of this twisting and racking myself in the daytimes. I thought. Grinding it through the nights. I was free.
Free for an afternoon drive through the bright-wet sheen. Awake&alive in the post record-breaking rain. And she, with her chants and charms, she couldn’t hurt me anymore.
Up&out there on that highway, you really get a sense of something Vast. You can take that old highway clear up to Kansas City&Montana. You can go by way of Fayetteville AR and up&on through Memphis/Nashville, TN.
Or you can slink low&lonely, moaning down that Musical Highway-Texas 10′ll take you to some pretty girls in Lafayette and if you burn on through you might find yourself in the bottom of the macabre night, New Orleans.
But I’ll stay here in the perfect bat weather.
I pull into the spot and they’s a note on the door. I rip it where its pricked. I throw it away.
I don’t need you anymore.
Trouble was and trouble is. There is no difference. Down here, in the Pearl of the South, with the jack o lantern lights on&down the hill from the barrio store.
I caught a fever and a sickness but the disease it peeled right offa me. Like a bankroll, like green wings, blowing in the wind behind me. Up&out there on 290/360/71, I could see the Frost Building, the dome, and Charles Whitman’s tower. All that money was blowin around behind me like so much greed&lust between Temple and the bad road.
though the Blues be my blanket,
and Trouble my home,
I’m finally OK with you bein gone.
Going for the Throat 