My criminal uncle crashes the garden party on a four-day drunk
Clears the nephews, adiposity he clears the cousins, and he
He’s got visions, he’s grabbing for lifelines
Livid and lunatic with laughing gas
He parked his grandmother’s pickup truck lengthwise
Loaded with a half-cord of wood

But it’s too late for him
It’s too late for me
It’s too late for us
We’ve run out of things to be.

My criminal uncle lived in a cabin on a mountain notch road
Hunting license and a buck strung up by the heels in the yard
He’s got a gripe with his neighbor, a bad knee to favor
Bass amp, he’s a backroom bard

My criminal uncle smashed his car on a six-week bender
Flecks of white paint, dried animal on the right rear fender
Don’t you remember?

He says, “Why have you forsaken me?
Ask anyone I know, isn’t this what a man’s supposed to be?”
I got fooled by philosophers
He was led astray by country songs
He’s loopy and lonely, driving circles ’round his front yard

Cork and bottle, cock and bull
Hook and bullet business meetings
Downstairs rumble, rattle and roll
Upstairs greetings

It’s too late for him
It’s too late for me
It’s too late for us
We’ve run out of things to be

It’s too late for us
I don’t know where we are
Spinning across the heavens
Drowning like some falling star.