Walk Away

I know what you said.

Your father saw that fox

Again; that white dog

Crossed the road,

And he swerved.

He looked the other way

And swerved.

I know what you said.

It was always the end,

Always over with me and you,

Like a pop song from 1982.

Now you’re just somebody that

I used to know, that

I used to know.

You never cut me.

You didn’t have to cut me

So clean and deep.

I know what you said.

Sing that old song

We used to sing.

Sing that old song

Your mother never sang.

Admit that I am wrong

And go home, Girl.

I know what you said.

You showed me what I was

Running from, and I sang

Like Mumford & Sons,

Sang like Arcade Fire.

I sang like day forgot night

And foreswore dawn.

I sang like you

Forgot the way your father wrote 

Your mother’s name

With a Fourth-of-July sparkler 

At the virgin face of night.

I sang as if you knew your mother’s eyes,

As if you knew your father 
Never did a goddamn thing

Worth writing in a history book.

Oh, your folks were worth all

The candles you

Lit for them.

I know what you said:

Charlie Boy, don’t go to war.

Don’t go to war, My Boy.

You said, Don’t hang your head.

I know you said I wore a uniform and played

A bugle, that I raised my hand

And held a flag, but you didn’t say

The news was bad, My Boy—You didn’t say

You knew I tossed my rifle down and ran.

I know you said

That I didn't fall,

That nobody falls.

You said that we all run a trail

Like a beagle runs a rabbit in a wide,

Wide arc back home again.

You said: 

Don't let anybody say

That you can't go home again.

Home is where you take it, 

And it goes where you go. 

Home has to go with you

Because it owns you. 

Home's tied to your hide, 

And it weighs you down 

As you circle back,

Trying to get away from home again.

I said:

Go home, Girl.

Tell your folks

That I love them

Even less

Than I love you.