Flightless Bird, American Mouth (High)

by Iron and Wine

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I was a quick, wet, boy, diving too deep for coins, all of your street light eyes wide on my plastic toys

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Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long, baby hair, stole me a dog- eared map, called for you everywhere,

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Have I found you, Flightless Bird? Jealous, weeping, or lost you? American Mouth? Big pill, looming.

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Now I'm a fat, house cat, nursing my sore-blunt tongue, watching the warm, poisoned rats curl through the wide fence cracks

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Pissing on magazine photos, those fishing lures thrown in the cold and clean, blood of Christ mountain stream

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have I found you, Flightless Bird? Grounded, bleeding, or lost you, American Mouth? Big pill stuck going down.