I breathe the breeze
from the wings of a fly
as sun cracks eyelids
hangover looks for a corner
and the same fucking rooster crows

this son of a bitch
the confederate general
of osage county, crows
every morning at the exact
time of stonewall jackson’s
death, this son of a bitch
rooster believes in reincarnation

let us cross over the river
gather in the shade of the trees
let’s roll out the trashcans
wait for the meth labs
of the gasconade to open
the ozarks will stand
then fall like appalachia
this son of a bitch keeps crowing

this rooster expects
lemons from your pocket
if you don’t then motherfucker
you better at least straighten
up, stand at attention and salute