Wipers

 Should’ve stopped at Walmart and bought a pair of windshield wipers 
Cuz the sky is the same color as it was back at Golgotha 
And the wind just ripped your mounted steer horns off your bumper and flung em over the iron oxide cliffs 
And we can’t see nothin, so you’re crawling on the interstate, cross-country semi nipping at our heals 
The motor rumbles beneath my legs, and I grip the seat, tires slick in the blood mud coated pavement 
Everything’s wet, stuck window, and the rains blowing sideways cuz God or the reigning champion cowboy is pretty angry 
You grind your toe into the break, and we spin, tail where the headlights should be and into the grass bank 
Then the rain stops, and the semi honks, and it’s the clearest blue sky you’ve ever saw, and we’re four wheels deep in the dirt 
And we should’ve stopped at Walmart and bought a pair of windshield wipers.