| Across the high in desert plane
|
| Where towns are tortured and hills are stained
|
| It’s where you were
|
| When times are bad and you would tell her
|
| I bet you were a million miles away
|
| And if I could I’d be around
|
| I would pull you up, and watch the tone
|
| 'Cause you wanna and my hand waves
|
| And you move like you need a hand
|
| And tore away
|
| Across the better land to call your own
|
| A bet you saw the miles of golden stones
|
| It’s where you bed and where you walk
|
| I called you up, I called you a part
|
| I bet you were a million miles away
|
| And if you want, I’d been in demand
|
| We’d be up on times, your hand in my hand
|
| 'Cause you walk like you wanna
|
| 'Cause you wanna and my hand waves
|
| And you move like you need a hand
|
| My hand, your sin
|
| I never knew for the dead
|
| My head will watch you in the sand
|
| These clouds come rolling in
|
| You say your hands
|
| Make you right and nervous
|
| In the night full of
|
| Straight coming eyes
|
| And you lie when you walk
|
| Make me wise
|
| Make me
|
| Till the shot fills the hand
|
| And my lonely sin |