#53 A FOREST OF PINE
#53 A FOREST OF PINE
(Americana)
Buried them deep beneath a forest of pine,
But it started long before.
I dared him -- he tried -- and they died ugly.
Two souls I loved most — and miss even more.
I rob and I kill -- know it's not in him.
Things a man just knows about his brother.
Always reaching, more than he should,
Last two months, he's been with my lover.
A forest of pine rains down needles,
Gentle bed falling from above.
Soft dirt turns easy when covered,
Rest for those you’ve killed and those you love.
Worse places to stay ’til the end of time,
Than a still corner in a forest of pine
I'm a hard man, do things that make men pause,
Work for John Paxton, deal in rough trade.
Angry at my brother, though he didn't know,
Good beating would leave most his debt paid.
Laid out my dare, tried to play to his pride,
"Up-and-comer with stones would jump at this:"
"Pick a late night, go in fast and quiet,"
"Nice things in that desk in Paxton's office."
In a forest of pine, sun only dapples,
In a forest of pine, you don't feel the rain.
I felt the sting of their betrayal,
Though the pain didn't cut the same.
See, my brother didn't know she was mine,
But I pointed them both at that forest of pine.
I said "office," meant at the docks,
Few guys patrolling, even less locks.
To know why he did it, I’d give the world
He chose different, and brought my girl.
They tried to break in Paxton's estate,
His fully alarmed office -- One foggy night, late.
Paxton walks in, draws a blade, says "Good evening!"
"Don't know you two that well, I do know you're not leaving."
Cut my brother's throat right there, then left him,
Took my girl somewhere else, did their worst.
They told me later what happened, where to find them,
Now I know how it feels to cast your own curse.
Paxton said "You'll keep quiet. Know which end's up."
He leans back in his chair, big hands and big gut.
"You know what I can't get my head around?"
"My best earner's brother's just a stupid mutt."
I didn't pull the trigger, would have been better.
Carry the guilt like a sack of sharp blades.
The least I owe them is love and witness,
Take myself deep under the pine shade.
Walk the needles, then stand for a time,
Two small stones beneath a forest of pine.