| I’m Don Juan’s reckless daughter
|
| I came out two days on your tail
|
| Those two bald-headed days in November
|
| Before the first snowflakes sail
|
| Out on the vast and subtle plains of mystery
|
| A split tongue spirit talks
|
| Noble as a nickel chief
|
| Striking up an old juke box
|
| And he says:
|
| «Snakes along the railroad tracks.»
|
| He says, «Eagles in jet trails …»
|
| He says, «Coils around feathers and talons on scales …
|
| Gravel under the belly plates …»
|
| He says, «Wind in the Wings …»
|
| He says, «Big bird dragging its tail in the dust …
|
| Snake kite flying on a string.»
|
| I come from open prairie
|
| Given some wisdom and a lot of jive!
|
| Last night the ghosts of my old ideas
|
| Reran on channel five
|
| And it howled so spooky for its eagle soul
|
| I nearly broke down and cried
|
| But the split tongue spirit laughed at me
|
| He says, «Your serpent cannot be denied.»
|
| Our serpents love the whisky bars
|
| They love the romance of the crime
|
| But didn’t I see a neon sign
|
| Fester on your hotel blind
|
| And a country road come off the wall
|
| And swoop down at the crowd at the bar
|
| And put me at the top of your danger list
|
| Just for being so much like you are!
|
| You’re a coward against the altitude--
|
| You’re a coward against the flesh--
|
| Coward--caught between yes and no
|
| Reckless this time on the line for yes, yes, yes!
|
| Reckless brazen in the play
|
| Of your changing traffic lights
|
| Coward--slinking down the hall
|
| To another restless night
|
| As we center behind the eight ball
|
| As we rock between the sheets
|
| As we siphon the colored language
|
| Off the farms and the streets
|
| Here in Good-Old-God-Save-America
|
| The home of the brave and the free
|
| We are all hopelessly oppressed cowards
|
| Of some duality
|
| Of restless multiplicity
|
| (Oh say can you see)
|
| Restless for streets and honky tonks
|
| Restless for home and routine
|
| Restless for country-safety-and her
|
| Restless for the likes of reckless me
|
| Restless sweeps like fire and rain
|
| Over virgin wilderness
|
| It prowls like hookers and thieves
|
| Through bolt locked tenements
|
| Behind my bolt locked door
|
| The eagle and the serpent are at war in me
|
| The serpent fighting for blind desire
|
| The eagle for clarity
|
| What strange prizes these battles bring
|
| These hectic joys-these weary blues
|
| Puffed up and strutting when I think I win
|
| Down and shaken when I think I lose
|
| There are rivets up here in this eagle
|
| There are box cars down there on your snake
|
| And we are twins of spirit
|
| No matter which route home we take
|
| Or what we forsake
|
| We’re going to come up to the eyes of clarity
|
| And we’ll go down to the beads of guile
|
| There is danger and education
|
| In living out such a reckless life style
|
| I touched you on the central plains
|
| It was plane to train my twin
|
| It was just plane shadow to train shadow
|
| But to me it was skin to skin
|
| The spirit talks in spectrums
|
| He talks to mother earth to father sky
|
| Self indulgence to self denial
|
| Man to woman
|
| Scales to feathers
|
| You and I
|
| Eagles in the sky
|
| You and I
|
| Snakes in the grass
|
| You and I
|
| Crawl and fly
|
| You and I |