A Song for Ernest Hemingway The Wonder Years

[Verse 1]
The sky goes from concrete to charcoal
I'm laying on my back on the roof
Gonna shoot these clouds full of holes
I need some fucking light to pour through
'Cause December's got me up against the ropes
And I don't know how to get loose
I can't get feeling back in my toes
From walking in circles with you
Like we're lost Canadian geese
I should be south of here already

[Chorus]
I'll be your dead bird, you'll be my bloodhound
You're just doing what you're told
Pick my body off the ground
I'll be your dead bird...

[Verse 2]
I'm staring at Hemingway's shotgun
And I'll picture him drinking alone
He's forgetting things that he wouldn't have before
His eyes are starting to go
And I heard all about how his plane went down
After Christmas in the Congo
Read about his own death in the paper
I bet it was freeing to know
When you destroy everything worth chasing
There's nowhere left to go