| They were hiding behind hay bales
|
| They were planting
|
| In the full moon
|
| They had given all they had
|
| For something new
|
| But the light of day was on them
|
| They could see the thrashers coming
|
| And the water
|
| Shone like diamonds in the dew
|
| And I was just getting up
|
| Hit the road before it’s light
|
| Trying to catch an hour on the sun
|
| When I saw
|
| Those thrashers rolling by
|
| Looking more than two lanes wide
|
| I was feeling
|
| Like my day had just begun
|
| Where the eagle glides descending
|
| There’s an ancient river bending
|
| Through the timeless gorge of changes
|
| Where sleeplessness awaits
|
| I searched out my companions
|
| Who were lost in crystal canyons
|
| When the aimless blade of science
|
| Slashed the pearly gates
|
| It was then I knew I’d had enough
|
| Burned my credit card for fuel
|
| Headed out to where the pavement
|
| Turns to sand
|
| With a one-way ticket
|
| To the land of truth
|
| And my suitcase in my hand
|
| How I lost my friends
|
| I still don’t understand
|
| They had the best selection
|
| They were poisoned with protection
|
| There was nothing that they needed
|
| Nothing left to find
|
| They were lost in rock formations
|
| Or became park bench mutations
|
| On the sidewalks and in the stations
|
| They were waiting, waiting
|
| So I got bored and left them there
|
| They were just dead weight to me
|
| Better down the road
|
| Without that load
|
| Brings back the time
|
| When I was eight or nine
|
| I was watching my mama’s T. V
|
| It was that great Grand Canyon rescue episode
|
| Where the vulture glides descending
|
| On an asphalt highway bending
|
| Through libraries and museums
|
| Galaxies and stars
|
| Down the windy halls of friendship
|
| To the rose clipped by the bullwhip
|
| The motel of lost companions
|
| Waits with heated pool and bar
|
| But me I’m not stopping there
|
| Got my own row left to hoe
|
| Just another line
|
| In the field of time
|
| When the thrashers come
|
| I’ll be stuck in the sun
|
| Like the dinosaurs in shrines
|
| But I’ll know the time has come
|
| To give what’s mine |