STARKVILLE

If you were here in Starkville, the townie boys would love the way you stare. If you were here in Starkville, the local girls, they wouldn't have a prayer. I spent a reckless night inside the wonder of your everlasting charm, now I'm haunted by geography, and the flora and the fauna of your heart. At the dawning of some road-worn day, I called you on a whim just to say, “The morning birds are singing,” but I could not do them justice, so I hung up and fell back to sleep. I'm in love with my mobility, but sometimes this life can be a drag; like when I noticed your nobility and how my leaving only held you back. I remember one occasion - you were drinking - when you asked me to the coast, but I was hell-bent on agony back then, so I missed the boat. At the dawning of a road-worn day, I called you on a whim just to say, “My regrets become distractions when I cannot do them justice,” then I hung up and fell back to sleep. When I was down in Starkville, I was hiding out inside some Comfort Inn from a local gang of troubadors, when the homecoming queen - she come riding in. I slipped out of my room into the rain I went running for my health, The headlights turned to moonlight, and finally I was running by myself. At the dawning of this road-worn day, I call you on a whim just to say, “The morning birds are singing.”