Swagger vets & Double moon

The swagger vets
yes, they pull flowers too
and a voice cassette of road diary
beautiful vets drag your knuckles down
and don't need every TV
just a bottle and a woman
faithful as gold
or cold food
your family perfume
never touched the ceiling
or slapped your roman nose

the lines of the face are desert roads
i slide down Emerald St. like a double moon
a tipping veteran who has combed hair
and saw a fateful air god eat cloud food

the swagger vets they come
pension waive
pens in your arm
i'll leave you to you now
leave armys to the ants
you can be your own
master of martingale
sometimes it's all to slow
i slide down Emerald St. like a double moon
while every murder has a dance to do