running with a blade in a blade of grass
in the meadow i hunt words and words hunt me
i go to the source in the wellspring under hope
divine nothing but looking in the well
there was a time i went for the gold
i swept it up in yellow bile in my guts
where the green eye meets the red
they want to put a storyline in my drifter soul
i have been blowing in the wind for awhile now baby
i kiss the dust i wipe the dust from my sandals and i move on
i hide in the day by being in the night
i am blind i am deaf and i just am
coming back to find i cannot be the man i want to be
my words have me in a prison reminding me to keep a blank slate
i am tired of the railroad tracks in the mountains i have swallowed