Catching Stars on I-79

His tattered jeans, I see just what you mean
You try your best to keep the laundry clean
Open the door. I'm on the basement floor
And you'll bend down, although your back is sore

Raggedy Ann, you'll look like Aimee Mann
As you unfold just like a Chinese fan
To make me grin. Like when you spoke to me
To stoke the flames that you awoke in me

When all my books are marbled black and white
And all my time has slipped back to the night
You'll make me stand. Silent on your front lawn
'Til I'm a golem with its one truth gone

The turning tide, you'll burn to face the side
As I come in and open my mouth wide
I'm slaked for sleep. Like all your high school days
When you were young and you ignored their praise