bone He could not help but hang his eyes Her beauty held him so If this was not a state of grace Then grace he'd never know I want to yell farewell from
I always drift on back to you The beautiful is not chosen The chosen becomes beautiful I have never tired of Manna falling from above When conscious
sky slowly turning golden The cowards at His feet loudly laughing Loved ones stumbling homeward their words reeling Red tail above my head quietly soaring Waters turn from
before I lost my way I wonder what he thinks out there Pastures turn from black to green and black again The sun it carves a well worn path From here
had a blue guitar A blue guitar to play all night long Singing songs of loss and love Singing songs till morning comes Ghosts in the basement, screams from
Someone out there kneeling No one out there listening But what I want to know Before you save my soul Is who gave this power To that fucker up there?
Hold on honey, there's a new dawn coming And a big bird to sweep you away Are you born yet? Are you listening? Are you sick of staring at the walls?
We're miles from our home Miles from our home Miles from our home, miles from our home Miles from our home, miles from our home Miles from our home
Place my body on the funeral pyre Cut it loose to float downstream Leave it frozen on mountain top Suspend it high to be picked clean You said never
Another face erased From this tidal pool Found one day Then swept away I will carry you my love If you can carry me Through this summer of our discontent
will you share these sights with us? When will we hold you in our arms? And people will tell them We're miles from our home, Miles from our home.
Oversættelse: Junkier Cowboy. Miles fra vores hjem.
your daddy Never will be coming back Again At the end of the rainbow Again, No words to be found Just this voice sad and alone Me wishing I was home
I had a blue guitar, A blue guitar to play all night long. Singing songs of loss and love. Singing songs till morning comes. Ghosts in the basement Screams from
Purple sky slowly turning golden. Cowards at his feet loudly laughing. Loved ones stumbling homeward Their words reeling. Red Tail above my head quietly soaring. Waters turn from
a bone He could not help but hang his eyes Her beauty held him so If this was not a state of Grace Then Grace he'd never know I want to yell farewell from
When will you share these sights with us? When will we hold you in our arms? And people will tell them We're miles from our home, Miles from our home