come home in the evening
while the sun’s still high
and the spring rain runs rivulets
down the alaska highway
o my old mountain home
may the weeds and fungi prosper in the garden
crack open a pilsner
it’s time to rip the plastic off of the windows
& draw em wide
let the breath of the new season find ever crevice in the house
o my old mountain home
may the thoughts we left in the snowbanks stay buried down
it’ll be like old times, before the fall set in
sittin round the firepit, drinkin late with friends
we'll pass the spliffs, we'll shoot the shit
about the coming summer
the roof is rotting and starting to sag
from the snowfall last winter
there's lots to be jaded about:
cracks in the windows, fresh scars to heal
o my old mountain home
may we not forget the reasons we were drawn here
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