| All the Protestant girls |
| They’re all swinging their hips |
| Fresh coat of red on their lips |
| In a solar eclipse |
| I sat on the steps |
| Church bells rang in my ears |
| Big blue sky was so clear |
| When the sun disappeared |
| White horses on the highway ride under this strange and darker sky |
| A wind will come and scatter seeds and it will bury all of these |
| The children sing across the plains their voices rise and quickly fade |
| On a passenger train |
| Slightly out of my mind |
| All the women so kind |
| Sending chills down my spine |
| And I fell into sleep |
| And in that sleep I did dream |
| That I was torn at the seams |
| I don’t know what it means |
| Inside of mama baby kicks |
| And this house is made of stone and sticks |
| All these things can break my bones and everyone must run alone |
| I run all night with bursting lungs |
| I will always be my mother’s son |
| Yes I will always be my mother’s son |
| And I’m no different from anyone |
| Stopped traffic and stadium lights |
| That’s the view from the sky |
| As that old black bird flies |
| I wish I could fly |
| What will we become |
| When we sleep in the dirt |
| Who will rise up first |
| One can never be sure |