SCARED MONEY DON'T
I remember [well] around the same time country radio replaced gospel. So much about to change. I stopped doing math, I knew [all of] the numbers that I'd need. I sheathed my strings and finally umma didn't speak. I wanted to live under sky. Where my heat rises, slips into nothing. I hate to explain why I was looking for a home. Imagine [me] abandoning empty rooms. I didn't always have to run solo. They used [to keep] me for the warmth. I used to lead the youth to worship and then sell weed. Activities for extroverts. So much love, lying like I never run low. I once dug with my brothers to the trail, then we plastered to a makeshift court, dripping, between gravel and boredom. I once craved attention, and now I want enough to get by. I used to pack up and drive all night, that was the fix—singing, out a window [at the world]. Not asking to be cured. But you know how it holds. It's hard, to heal. It's easy to want more.
