twenty-four hours and not one spent so sullen sad
you killed yourself drowning forgetting about all the years you still had
so why don't we picture a big fat lake 
one that can hold onto all the mistakes we make, 
and bury them down, down. 

this sunday morning was never spent so sacred sad
you went to the preacher and told him that you were deep down bad
he said, "my dear boy you done rocked the train," 
raised his big hands, placed them on the window pane. 
we ran away, far. 

two months later we pray
to all the gods in our lexicon of saints. 
you fall down in a spell of modern sadness, 
we move. we're moved. 

two dated beers were never drunk so eager sad 
you asked me if i didn't like life what were the things i would add
i said a big house, an accordion, 
to be ever-faithful and always thin
you laughed. and i laughed too. 

Sacred Sad

When The Stars Go Blue (Ryan Adams Cover)

Route 70 West

Gabrielle Peterson

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