Boxer Heist from Jazz Standards by Danvers

standing up, over greenfield,
and I don’t think I can make this work anymore
gathered threads, piecemeal it to death
a slow dawn,
legs shake, we’re lost and worn
their eyes well up,
and their hearts like a sea
and I remember every night you sang to me
thought I heard desperation,
or was that just temporary?

the shot rang out
seems like forever ago
and the crowd, as expected
is down to no one
the line’s in sight
but I swear after this I’m through

this harbor, it holds a lot of things
but not one of them
yields an ounce of cure
and the stone I’m about to throw
it falls to the ground
as I see you flying by

Just trying to figure this out

(I fail to see the harm in
adding to what’s already wasted
well on our way to
safety and distance
in the time we took to get here
I could have)

I’m tying up loose ends
and I’m trying, coping in my room,
coping with futility

to keep this one on us
to keep this obvious:
everyone gives up

so sing your drinking songs
jot them down in one night

• Punk
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