Bleeding black sheep boy, mirror in pieces.
Turn the receiver, trace the police station.
Line to my number, and number my reasons
for this paranoia, for these accusations.
Each night the numbers paired off like lovers,
collided together so I can remember
my name or my nation. Bay black sheep boy.
Go back beyond the pasture,
you cracked out of my head.
Get in your battered Mustang
and the back seat will be your bed.