| I have paid my debts sometimes
|
| With awkward silences
|
| I was given two ears of corn and the bow
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| I ate the one, and sowed the other
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| And brother, I aim straight for the road
|
| And brother, I aim straight for the road
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| With my wings in one hand and lead in the other
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| From the cross roads to the shore
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| What the horizon only tells to us ghosts
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| Is that when it is quiet in our heart
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| We become the diesel
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| We become the smoke
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| We become the prairie
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| We become the spark
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| And the only song coming through on the radio
|
| And the only song comin' in on the radio
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| Well you take that map of the falling sky
|
| And you lay it across your heart
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| And the loneliness between us is right where you are
|
| The loneliness is right where you are |