I’ve said it before but didn’t mean it
and meant it before but never said it—
pack your things, put them in my truck
and say goodbye to this smoke and dust town.
The men down at the diner chuckle
when I come in the door. They aren’t afraid
of me, talk about your kids, call you
“another man’s second helping”
like I don’t know. I try to ignore them,
but how can I? Is there a secret
you’re not telling me? I can’t take the eyes
on the back of my head, my burning ears—
but there’s nothing for us here. Grab your kids
and come with me to Nowhere, Ohio.
This isn’t a life, only a trap you’ve gotten
stuck in. It’s time for you to stop worrying
and come with me. Let them keep talking.
Let’s build ourselves a life we’ll both fit into.