The Meanest Man In The World

The wide, wide open sky above the sage and the thorns
The rocks and pines were humming an old familiar tune
His hard, black boots came crunching up this gravel road
He saw the house a mile away, the moon was just setting
The night were darker then, lights in the living room
He could recall that the TV was on but not if anyone was watching
He never thought of himself as cruel
He never thought of himself at all
Kindness was always outside his grasp
He was the meanest man in the world
The door wasn’t really locked, the fireplace was burning
The room exploded like a bomb but all in slow motion
Icicles hung from the roof, he remembered someone weeping
Though it was sticky on the rug, he just kept on walking
He never closed a door. He never turned off a light
He left things pretty much the way they were
After he did what he did that night