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Widespread Panic |
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Miscellaneous |
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Pilgrims |
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Brian Whitman |
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Black cat crossed our path |
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On little fog feet |
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There's crows riding beside my window |
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We left superstition on the roadside |
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A few cities ago |
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They spent our souls, maybe |
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But they didn't take our smiles |
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We listen, we shake, the radio |
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There's a sweet corn princess smiling |
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To the words on the glass |
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Remember we stopped for tamales last time? |
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But now the lights from the town |
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Are fading with radio |
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There's another song playing |
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And we can hear it |
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In the wind outside |
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We listen, we shake to the radio |
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We listen, to the radio |
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Little black kitty crossed our path |
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Wearing little fog feet |
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And the crows they're just drifters |
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Through my window |
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Late night cities lights are growing sharper |
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And there's another song |
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I see pouring from the look |
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In your eyes |
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We listen, we shake to the radio |
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We listen, we shake, to the radio, radio |
