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first track in a while. july 4 2012.
the oilman sleeps with one eye in the east. the pumpjacks are bowing. they're praying to him. but my covenant crumbles in your muddy palm. how many words mean in the dawn. the windrise day, would we battle or fawn? your shame is the field for their game and their born. but i've tasted gold, spit it back bent and cold. your lonely old skies, how they rolled.
i sleep in your web now. i wake for your words. i crumble for storms where your prairie unfolds. when the purple dusk hangs and her doors are swung wide i look at death, know his face, hear his tide. your blue-bullet dreams and your feathery woe. the harvesting moon and her wandering glow. when we fell to our knees at the side of the road, in lost boats on dark water we followed.