on the bare board wooden floor
of a tavern called Valhalla
ask me to dance or I'll ask you
just so I can step in close
let the story of my eyes unfold
slowly through the mascara
and the smoke
and a song from a whiskey jack throat
of a Hank Williams never met the end
of this or any road
and I won't have to ask your name
cause there's no truths or lies
to how reality should best be tamed
when we've both left the world behind
when it don't matter any way
whether we're the damned
or we're the saints
or just the ghosts from inside a dream
dancing through some wayside weary
backwoods heaven
under a burned out neon sign
that used to read Valhalla
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