Weather Is Tent

Local politician in a grease black car
Rolls down his window
And perspires on view
I heard his son died in war and they ain't got a body to ship
Your Aunty Jackie can’t bring herself to write the condolence card
But she does it anyway
Held tongue
Back from the pawnbroker heirloom-less

And I know what to do
And I know when to stop
I think I love her and you
But I like it a lot

Finite hours on the sound in July
Little town pageants and high 99s
Jumping into those rolling waves
I found heartache in your polka dot togs
He was up at half moon hill
As the last bedside light flickered off
As the wind howled through the leaves
And he stepped to the edge with intent

And I know what to do
And I know when to stop
I don’t love only you
But I like it a lot

He let the business sharks feed
He made the club house bleed
But his son just died in the war