| The streets are cracked
|
| And there’s glass everywhere
|
| And a baby stares out
|
| With motherless eyes
|
| Under long gone beauty
|
| On fields of war
|
| Trapped in lament
|
| To the poet’s core
|
| Oh where oh where will I be
|
| Oh where oh when that trumpets sounds
|
| Met an Indian boy in Ottawa
|
| He laid me down on a bed of straw
|
| Said don’t waste your breath
|
| Don’t waste your heart
|
| Don’t blister your heels
|
| Running in the dark
|
| Yeah I like the heat
|
| Of your body laying under me
|
| May your wild lip get you where your going
|
| With your inventions your intentions, your laughter
|
| Your forever yearning
|
| I walked to the river
|
| And I walked to the rim
|
| I walked through the teeth of the reaper’s grin
|
| I walked to you rolled up in wire
|
| To the other side of desire
|
| Well the heart opens wide like it’s never seen love
|
| And addiction stays on tight like a glove
|
| Oh where oh where will I be |