an american tale

it took my gentle jocko, left me fumbling
standing with our dusty cadillac
black and full of texas heat
staring at a roadmap that might take me
somewhere he'd never been
could it be that houston's just off
around the bend, maybe.
i've gone tired, singing little susie
and driving fast in our american car
he ran up and down the county roads
like a coyote for a deer
howling at the black above
sometimes he'd go whispering,
go aroaming through the town
climb the oak outside my window
just to smile and say hello
give me tales of places made of gold
heroes in a land gone cold
riding jackals big as elephants
bearing swords that cut through stone
sometimes he'd sleep on my bedroom floor
with his bruises and his snores
offering his kind protection
from the demons all around
from the wrong beyond my garden
and the blows i'd nearly found
but they took my little jocko
and this road's no longer clear

for a man should always find his way
and never shed a tear