Heavy hands and heavy hearts

Wealth is a twenty dollar bill
And a knowledge of the town’s best drink specials
At least that’s what it is to me
But I’ve never been right
I always bet on the Cubs
Call tails when quarters insist on landing heads up
So maybe I’m not rich now
But I got enough money to down myself
And half a mind to do so
The other half clings to hope with broken fingernails
Ignoring that I’ve come to love the night
How are you suppose to tell the sun
I have forsaken your light
I have come chosen quick and shallow graves
Where I can drink amongst freshly picked over bones
I’ll trade stories with the skeletons that used to be in people’s closets
Hear the buzz from the buzzards
Before I fall asleep in traffic so I can dream about forward motion