Now this song is one of those
An outlaw's dying prayer
My brother said the wild world would feed upon my skin
Left me bones for the grave
All has made a ghost of me, spirit dead, shackled arms
And that on that day I would long for the farm
Blowing through the skull of our home

Wicked dreams
Of blood and other wild schemes
Where the waves are made of thunder
To share with them a piece of the catch
And an honest simple faith
You left me for the law
Swallow's wings

And other old and tattered things
My father said the ocean would beat upon my grave

The blood that beats this heart is blood upon the floor
Oh, wicked ocean made my heart a beggar
Here I am waiting in watercolor gray

The dull and fade of wedding rings
There's fire in these hills, closer every day
My mother said a woman would be the death of me
I sit here all alone but I would never sing this kind of song
The wind calls the hangman to my name
Howling dogs at the dust cloud walls

The majesty of insect wings
The fire in these hills gets closer every day
Down drowning streams
Snapping at the heels of death
For seabirds only death upon the plain
Are picking out the eyes of my dreams
Childish beauty, Sunday charm

Windy woman, blown my cover

I long to see the Banyan trees or any other place
And that on that day I would long for my home
And that on that day no god would hear
Reminds me of a tropic wind
The crabs that ride the jet streams
I'll wait for you or Jesus or any other technicolor day
And pierced the heart of a fading ghost
Ruby you lead the hangman to my door
And the brittle of their bones
Ruby, I chased your laughter with elephant wings

That play like mold for the rust

And the seabirds clean the blood from off my feet

And it's family stone
The wind calls the hangman to my name
As I hung the wind whipped your wild name