pig will be wearing a new hat to honor new year's eve
when it comes with all the notice of a day or a week
we'll toast to the end of calendars that framed an era of pain
of shock and loss and time that moved so heartlessly
yet even though I'm worn out from the efforts that I made
I look to mighty pig, to where he's always standing
and he's home
I can't remember the first time I thought bad luck was gonna end
seems so far in my memory now
I must have been a different person back then
pig was wearing clovers or hearts
whatever people wore back then
on his face a stoic amusement that never rises, never fades
and every time we're worn out from the efforts that remain
we look to mighty pig with chiseled face, tattooed feet
he's home
even when we lose the lights
even when we need relief
even in the darkest of nights
laughing eyes, visible teeth