Sunday Mourning Sun

Five years ago, headed south alone, set my guns to roam
Head down, not fully grown
Twenty-four and bored, looking for something more
Found myself a home, to await the storm

Crashing, burning, clouds turning so slow
What did I know?

Water lines, ripped-up signs, dead fruit, hanging vines
Frozen in time. August twenty-nine
Memory turns to rust, waste deep in the mud
Grown-up, headed home from the life I loved

Sunday Mourning Sunlight sleeps in the glow
To where? I don't know
To where? I don't know

As the rain pounded the back window
The road ahead uncoiled like a snake
The Houston skyline seemed to grow more distant
As I saw Lot's wife turn into salt
Hours turned to days, days to weeks, and I knew
It would be months before I'd see you again