I was a quick, wet boy
Diving too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes
Wide on my plastic toys

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

Have I found you
Flightless bird, jealous, weeping
Or lost you, American mouth
Big bill looming

Now I'm a fat house cat
Nursing my sore, blunt tongue
Watching the warm, poisoned rats
Curl through the white fence cracks
 [bad word] on magazine photos
Those fishing lures
Thrown in the cold and clean
Blood of Christ mountain stream

Have I found you
Flightless bird, grounded, bleeding
Or lost you, American mouth
Big bill still going down