“you got ur mind right, boy?”

 

I got this fast car and the whistling wren

don’t know what to think of me

 

an’ I got a coin in my pocket

lain up toward the day of thunder

 

an’ the wind whispers

the cries of the great raptors

 

come, now, the hour of trembling

 

the mother of my understanding

suffers not to stay her hand

in my hour of need