Nothing Against the Sheriff

Nothing against the sheriff

But the detectives

Went looking for my son

And they found him

In two hours

I’m not saying

The sheriff’s getting old

But I’m saying time

Time is getting old

Our time and--

I don’t belong raising a kid

At my age

I’ll tell you that

Wouldn’t have even had him

If my wife hadn’t insisted

Then she goes and gets sick

And here I am

Trying to keep track

Of a boy

And the farm

And the sounds

I hear at night

My other kids

Want me to move in with them

But they’ll put that little boy to work

Soon as they can

And he’s not fit for it

He’s got a delicate temperament

Like his mother

That’s not his fault

That’s just how he is

My older sons

Say I go easy on him

Easier on him

Than I did on them

And they’re not wrong

But I’m a different sort of man

Than the one I was

When I was raising them
And he’s a different sort of son

Than they were

And truthfully
I want to just tell them

To mind their own business

But they scare me sometimes

With how much they remind me of me

Back when I was all piss and dynamite

I’m willing to accept

That I’m getting older

And I think the sheriff should too

Told him about the sounds I’m hearing

And he tells me

It’s just the wind across the fields

Like I don’t know

What wind across my fields

Sounds like

After all these years

Does he think I’m sitting in my bed

Listening to god-knows-what

And misunderstanding it

As just a gust of air?

My son couldn’t sleep through the night

Until he was six-years-old

And I know it’s because

There’s something out in those fields

Something that won’t be satisfied

With taking my wife from me

Now they want the boy

That’s why he went missing

It learned how to speak

Whatever it is

It knows how to say a name

And sing a song

And one day

It’ll be telling stories

And once that happens

I may as well bury my son in the ground

Because he loves a good story too much

And I’m no good at telling them anymore

Nothing against the sheriff

But he hears all this

And wants to call

One of my other boys

And I say, ‘No, thank you, Sheriff’

Then I ask him

To go find my son

And this time he couldn’t

So I had to call

The detectives

Told ‘em the sheriff was useless

Now, I apologize for the strong language, but--

I told them

That if I had to count on the sheriff

I was as good as swallowed up

By whatever’s out there

Trying to get in

Trying to get inside me

Inside my head

And the detectives--

Well

They’re not much better

Because I keep telling them

How lousy the sheriff is

And they keep telling me

I am the sheriff

And that’s not right

Not right to lie like that

To a man

Not one bit

Right