Wreck

Should I close my eyes and get in that line, hold my bags in file with the boarders? Should I take your name down on a pencilled list or a tape recorder?
Should I take you down in the nighttime to the banks by the deep black water? Time will make you mine in an hour's time, time will make you older. They're pulling wreckage from the lake all night and day outside my window. The sky was quiet, cold, and wide the night they died above my pillow.
And God will take care of us, at least some of us, at least those of us that He wants, and disappear from most of us, keep clear from most of us, besides those of us that He haunts.