November 3

If you let yourself
Get in the car
Drive through the night
And knock at my door,
I’d fall into your arms
Make love for hours.
You’d make breakfast in the morning
I’d do the dishes
We’d listen to music
And read the news
Talk about the president
And plan to change the world
But plant flowers instead
And after a day
Or two
Or a week
Or a month
I’d hate myself.

For not staying true to my faith
That it has to be pure
To be right.

So get in the car tomorrow
And pick up your daughter
And try to stay married
To your wife.

150 150 Stafford Wood
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