Brown paper bag

On the back porch rail

Mason glass sweating

Like it’s nervous as hell

Fireflies drifting

Over rusted swing chain

You laugh and say sip it

It’ll burn off the day

A jar of moonshine

Pass it ‘round

Pass it ‘round (hey)

Little clear trouble

Going down

Going down

We got nothing but time

And this backyard sky

Just you

Just me

And a jar of moonshine

Bare feet on gravel

Old dog at the gate

You trace your name

In the spilled-out grain

That soft slow drawl

Turning stories to steam

You say “one more”

And lean into my sleeve

That old screen door

Sings off-key behind us

Crickets talk big

But they can’t out-lie us

If this is wrong

Then let it stay wrong tonight

Sweet on your lips

Sharp at the back of my mind