Martha lent me her second chance 
And I drove it out to where the rough and ready dance,
Out of work mechanics for un-oiled dreamscapes 
Refugees from every dogs day,  good time renegades,
Starting from scratch with a tortured itch
Re-learning to sail rowing an unsoiled ditch,
Raised hell just to find it was nothing and all
Left with the whistle of the Last Chance Roll Call,
Where what could’ve been is what we make of it 
Biting off more than we can chew just for the taste of it.