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