| Pull up the horses
|
| And carry me back behind the lines
|
| Back to the water
|
| Back with the gardens and the vines
|
| Where two hands of ashen gold
|
| Chase down my fever
|
| And wash me with soap
|
| When half of us were losing
|
| And half of us were wrong
|
| A rose you planted
|
| Leather and rope
|
| Fire inside the rock
|
| The heavens open
|
| I am like a child on the spot
|
| Asking God why’d you come?
|
| Was it all for some glory?
|
| Was it all for a song?
|
| And my eyes are still searching
|
| For a light in the fog
|
| A sweetheart to sing for me
|
| I was thrown from the center
|
| Where I once so bravely spun
|
| I was pulled through the colors
|
| Through the colors did I run
|
| And my eyes were wide and gleaming
|
| Though wind-whipped by the storm
|
| There is no more shelter for the broken
|
| I hear they still track me now
|
| Dogs try to sniff out my home
|
| I’ll write you in the scars
|
| Laid in trails by the jets headed home
|
| How you mold me and move me still
|
| I’m calling on your memory here alone in my cell
|
| A time when you fed me, a time I was filled
|
| But one of us must keep from crying |