Palmetto Rose

Palmetto rose in the A/C vent Cross-stitch pillow where the headrest went Said his cab was his orneriest friend Left hand jumping the trees in the wind

Thought he had the red lights memorized Glass in the gravel like the stars in the sky In that slow-motion minute between living and dead He looked in my eyes and he told me, he said

It's war that I wage to get up every day It's a fiberglass boat, it's azaleas in May It's the women I love and the law that I hate But Lord, let me die in the Iodine State Lord, let me die in the Iodine State

Palmetto rose in the sidewalk mud Dirty white stem and a big green bud Catch them coming out of a King Street store Some bullshit story about the Civil War

Now, you can believe what you want to believe But there ain't no making up a basket weave Everybody in the tri-county knows Who makes the best palmetto rose

And it's war that we wage to get up every day It's a basket of sweetgrass, a wedding bouquet It's the ladies I love and the law that I hate But Lord, let me die in the Iodine State Lord, let me die in the Iodine State

Out on Sullivan's Island, they're swimming On the beach where the big boats rolled in With the earliest slaves and their children Our first American kin

Here on King Street we're selling our roses Two for a five dollar bill At night, after everything closes I follow my own free will And I take in my fill I take in my fill