Goodbye Ruby, watch you winding
Down these snake trails that roll like rain drops in the dust
Windy woman, blown my cover
I sit here all alone but I would never sing this kind of song
Wicked dreams
Down drowning streams
Of blood and other wild schemes
That play like mold for the rust
Swallow's wings
And other old and tattered things
The dull and fade of wedding rings
Now this song is one of those
There's fire in these hills, closer every day,
The wind calls the hangman to my name
My father said the ocean would beat upon my grave
And that on that day I would long for my home
And it's family stone
Here I am waiting
In watercolor grey
I'll wait for you or Jesus or any other technicolor day
Howling dogs at the dust cloud walls
Snapping at the heels of death
To share with them a piece of the catch
I long to see the Banyan trees or any other place,
Where the waves are made of thunder
And the seabirds clean the blood from off my feet
Oh wicked ocean, made my heart a beggar
The crabs that ride the jet streams
Are picking out the eyes of my dreams
The fire in these hills gets closer every day,
The wind calls the hangman to my name
My brother said the wild
world would feed upon my skin
And that on that day I would long for the farm
And an honest simple faith...
The majesty of insect wings
And the brittle of their bones
Reminds me of a tropic wind
Blowing through the skull of our home
Ruby I chased your laughter with elephant wings
You left me for the law
Left me bones for the grave
Childish beauty
Sunday charm
All has made a ghost of me, spirit dead, shackled arms
As I hung the wind whipped your wild name
And pierced the heart of a fading ghost
For seabirds only death upon the plain
The blood that beats this heart
Is blood upon the floor
Ruby you lead the hangman to my door
My mother said a woman would be the death of me
And that on that day no god would hear...
An outlaw's dying prayer
Down these snake trails that roll like rain drops in the dust
Windy woman, blown my cover
I sit here all alone but I would never sing this kind of song
Wicked dreams
Down drowning streams
Of blood and other wild schemes
That play like mold for the rust
Swallow's wings
And other old and tattered things
The dull and fade of wedding rings
Now this song is one of those
There's fire in these hills, closer every day,
The wind calls the hangman to my name
My father said the ocean would beat upon my grave
And that on that day I would long for my home
And it's family stone
Here I am waiting
In watercolor grey
I'll wait for you or Jesus or any other technicolor day
Howling dogs at the dust cloud walls
Snapping at the heels of death
To share with them a piece of the catch
I long to see the Banyan trees or any other place,
Where the waves are made of thunder
And the seabirds clean the blood from off my feet
Oh wicked ocean, made my heart a beggar
The crabs that ride the jet streams
Are picking out the eyes of my dreams
The fire in these hills gets closer every day,
The wind calls the hangman to my name
My brother said the wild
world would feed upon my skin
And that on that day I would long for the farm
And an honest simple faith...
The majesty of insect wings
And the brittle of their bones
Reminds me of a tropic wind
Blowing through the skull of our home
Ruby I chased your laughter with elephant wings
You left me for the law
Left me bones for the grave
Childish beauty
Sunday charm
All has made a ghost of me, spirit dead, shackled arms
As I hung the wind whipped your wild name
And pierced the heart of a fading ghost
For seabirds only death upon the plain
The blood that beats this heart
Is blood upon the floor
Ruby you lead the hangman to my door
My mother said a woman would be the death of me
And that on that day no god would hear...
An outlaw's dying prayer