Scratched in stone
For anyone to read
Everything belongs
And then it leaves
A silence that ain't empty
A blindness that ain't dark
We've been headed south
From the very start
And the road's a shimmer
On a sagebrush sea
Cut between the highlands
And the deadwood trees
And though we started early
We got here real late
And we ain't got nothin' left to hate
Across the stones
Above the flats
Them shadows steal deep into our past
And we shake the dead
But some still breathe
Yeah we shake the dead
And some still dream
Smoke from burning tires
Above the squatters camp
He met us at the road
And led us with his lamp
The night gone breathless
The chill gone pure
You know we think too much
Until we think no more
Rock-a-my-soul-in-the-bosom-of-Abraham
