I Have Come to Chop Cedar Not to Drop Babies On Their Heads

i have no money and i will starve

i have ridden my bicycle up up up into the hills

where i have no hope

i am now riding it down quarries into the creekbed

where the water moccasins scent for bodies

and i only hope to be left for dead

i have come to chop cedar

i am chopping cedar

the dingos become huaraches

and I have become to chop cedar

til the javelinas make sport of my bones

the peccaries at my back

i shoot rattlesnakes and fry their heads
put the machete to moccasins and into the brown sack

and throughout the drought drought no doubt
the mulberry asps fall like rain
the drought will break, the possums will die