Knott County

I had a long hair and thought I was heading West. Some big boy from the big Pike said 'We Don't think much of guys like you" I jumped in my truck and drove away. Saw big Matt Matt priding fast. His boots were steaming and his death-wish were rails or a collapsing hill. I knew a girl named Cindy Jane, hair like Crystal Gayle. She was an unwritten poet and cooked better than time could stand still. We planted some trees, raised a few children, dogs and hogs. In the hollars of Knott County, Kentucky. The spiritual boys would always boss the town into the hypnotic bible. I hid the battles of the diseases, I can feel the arthritis cramping up on me. Who knew of ALS even in prayer villages. Maybe you were paying for your debts dodging Vietnam and working for your bottle. Pollution rises…