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though the hammer's blind |
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though the weapon's primed |
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though the water's mined |
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you are not the last |
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you're not iron cast |
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not a broken mast |
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the way that a crude anxiety knocks around underneath the crosswalk |
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the way that the roar of unsaid things drowns out all the small talk |
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yeah, ghost walk, till the dead grow tired of the night |
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though you are alone |
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you have never been the only one |
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we will reach from our points in the dark |
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and see where luck comes from |
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the god of increase |
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is not a god of peace |
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and it troubles me |
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to the burning ups |
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to the whiskey cups |
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to the purple dusk |
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faith in places where the mind can't go but the heart hangs around |
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traced in the faces where the eyes recall what's still important now |
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yeah, trust this, and the whole blue world will be yours and mine |
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though you are alone |
|
you have never been the only one |
|
we will reach from our points in the dark |
|
and see where luck comes from |
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in the city of shut down lights |
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in the crosshairs of enemy sights |
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we will reach from the dark |
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till we excavate a sky |
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(calling ... calling ...) |
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though you are alone |
|
you have never been the only one |
|
we will reach from our points in the dark |
|
and see where luck comes from |
|
though you are alone |
|
you have never been the only one |
|
we will reach from our points in the dark |
|
and see where luck comes from |
|
see where luck comes from |
|
see where luck comes from |
