In the cold house on the prairie is the place I was married
And fell by the wayside alone
I found a young maiden whose mind was so blatant
She called good old Hayward her home
The creek in the yard has dried into shards
The water don't taste that sweet
Just me and my tarp and my woman for heart
But she's been turning on me
One night I was drinking and started to thinking
That her heart must surely be brick
The heat that has baked it that now sits so vacant
Has gone to her head to be thick
She throws all my boots at my only two suits
That hang on a hook near the side
She shows me that brutes aren't just men with the moves
All that matters is really inside
So as she lay sleeping I started to creeping
And thought I'd go look at the moon
The floor kept on creaking and as I was leaving
I turned to look at the room
I looked on your features and matched them with creatures
And smiled to know I was gone
I don't want your future or all that you nurture
And so I will find a new home
I thought you were kind but was wrong
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