I don't know how I survived those days Before I held your hand Well, I never thought that I would be the one To admit that the moon and the sun shine
My first recollection, a day in December Black iron steam engine covered in ice Like some Cambrian monster Moaning and snorting Nothing was ever going
If I pour your cup, that is friendship If I add you milk, that is manners If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste That is tea If I pour your cup
Reach a hand to the crescent moon Grab hold of the hollow If she sits in the palm of the left That moon will be fuller tomorrow If she sits in the palm
Fifty miles from Dakota territory Cheyenne scalp hangs from his belt Found him alone washing in the Bighorn A steady aim and he bagged his game Pale
She placed her ring on the sill, dishes piled high She's on the front porch step and the air smells like snow She's thinking of the siege to come And
If it ain't one thing I tell you it's always another I wonder why I started treating you like a step-brother Love is hard to explain I know my loss is
Haven't seen the sun for seven days November's got her nails dug in deep Haven't seen my son for seven years And the chances are we'll never again meet
Eyed it, dried it, untied it Chilled it, spilled it, refilled it Taste it, traced it, erased it He's my post to lean on And I just cut him down So, I
Emma's in a part of town Where she doesn't recognize the streets Named for famous native sons And out of every crevice comes creeping A threat in her
As his eyes in the mirror Reduce me to flesh and bone Check under his floorboard, mama 'Cause that razor's not just a threat to me He'll be slicin' tiny crescents
Raise a white sail if you love me A black sail if you don't Seal me up in an impregnable tower Or surround me with an impassable moat I've heard all
Översättning: Junkies Cowboy. Crescent Moon.
And I don't know how I survived those days Before I held your hand Well I never thought that I would be the one To admit that the moon and the sun Shine
If I pour your cup, that is friendship If I add your milk, that is manners If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste, That is tea But if I measure
My first recollection is a day in December Black iron steam engine covered in ice Like some Precambrian monster Moaning and snorting Nothing was ever
As his eyes in the mirror Reduce me to flesh and bone Check under his floorboards, Mama, 'cause that razor's not just a threat to me He'll be slicing tiny crescents
