It's pretty good, the wine The way that we look at Ten to eight in the morning Just talking, still awake in Dawn and dew drinking, thinking Always...
Remembering the laughs, the time We got high for seven days down In New Orleans and it seemed like No one else knew we were just The moon and sun in fog before the Heat burned it away and took The sleep from tired heads on Beds of reaching hands, of road trip Breath and long tall freedom
And then you long For the days of trippin' down The long road just reading the Signs that show you the way to A higher place you meditate to Feel the quiet of the earth That was back When we used to be alright
Another shame, the way The city smells worse on A hot day in August...2 PM Right before us good movers Move and us shakers break Our hearts getting home to Country love and the garbage Dump by the dried up creek Near the forest that once had life And then I turn on the news Somebody shoot me soon I'm tired of over heating, falling Quick to bending knees and Broken veins, of always needing Faith to get to shore and break All the vows I've made
No time or presence Of mind to wonder why No time for questions of Why I wonder why Something's wrong...again The noise shakes the ground There's a rage in The crowd and I'm a face In the crowd, what's your name? You're sinkin' in the sand Standing next to me, a river Running through your pants, afraid To trust me when my hands