I was tall as young timber in the old growth of your eyes
Compressed and stretched in vectors, and smoothed by steady time
But my heart would mimic phrases; old rhythms born upon the tides
It was a stampede of autumn leaves, gunshots, and swinging scythes
But like a tear inside the tide pool or a seed swallowed by the sand
My voice grew weary in the caverns of a man
So hide me in the hoof prints, in the hollows of this path
Because I am the story, not the page in which it’s passed
I run with the foxes on the hillside, with the horse and hounds!
I’m that shadow moving like a worship across the grounds
You can cast your curses, you can forge your prayers
But I’m that spirit moving without the fear of all those snares.
But our memories are soaked in kisses and kerosene
Light the match and this all is but a dream
But craft for me this covenant from all the burdens we have shared
To lift the beast above the whips that fills the air
But you can dress yourself in fine furs If you think that would save you now
Remember my darling there’s no safety in that crown
You’ll feel the slack grow so loose against your rei(g)ns
You’ll hear the concert in the shaking of those chains
Cause I run with the foxes on the hillside, with the horse and hounds
With that mighty huntress, who casts aside her shroud
With the band of brothers who toil hard in the noonday sun
With truth outspoken in the barrel of your guns.