From The Recordings Html



The story’s truer than the cold / I tapped the liquid from my soul
I held a lantern in the hole between the darkness and the teeth
I count blessings just like that sheep / I stab the darkness in my sleep
I see the turning point beneath the twisted branches of the tree
The purple sting of howlin’ wind / Like icy knuckles to the chin
I can’t believe I made a fool of me again

I touched the waterfall at night / I walked the path by firelight
I saw the clearing just beyond the crooked smile of crescent moon
I saw you sitting on the log / With a blanket at your feet
To keep your distance from the fog and woven from the painted loom
Expectations in my face / Give the moment bitter taste
I dug that hole so many times I’m out of strength

I see the highway like a friend / With gravel shoulders end to end
I lost my way so many times / I can’t believe you got me home
The front door brought me to my knees / I’ve got a main street up my sleeve
I’ve got a notion to believe this kitchen table was made by hand
The ghost of dreams just turns and coughs / Slaps a bone and has a laugh
In the garden where the morning glories bloomed

Dusty clutter on the ledge / Kitchen knife has lost its edge
I tear the bread apart and wipe the greasy window with my shirt
The light comes through the greasy haze / Reminds me of those greasy days
Filled with dreams when disappointment was a luxury of time
I took a breath and cleared the shelf / Told my dreams to fuck themselves
Made an offer to the wind it can’t refuse