|
Across the high in desert plane |
|
Where towns are tortured and hills are stained |
|
It's where you were |
|
When times are bad and you would tell her |
|
I bet you were a million miles away |
|
And if I could I'd be around |
|
I would pull you up, and watch the tone |
|
'Cause you wanna and my hand waves |
|
And you move like you need a hand |
|
And tore away |
|
Across the better land to call your own |
|
A bet you saw the miles of golden stones |
|
It's where you bed and where you walk |
|
I called you up, I called you a part |
|
I bet you were a million miles away |
|
And if you want, I'd been in demand |
|
We'd be up on times, your hand in my hand |
|
'Cause you walk like you wanna |
|
'Cause you wanna and my hand waves |
|
And you move like you need a hand |
|
My hand, your sin |
|
I never knew for the dead |
|
My head will watch you in the sand |
|
These clouds come rolling in |
|
You say your hands |
|
Make you right and nervous |
|
In the night full of |
|
Straight coming eyes |
|
And you lie when you walk |
|
Make me wise |
|
Make me |
|
Till the shot fills the hand |
|
And my lonely sin |