with you the waters came,
seeped the cracked mud veins,
our scraped skin still stinging from the salt,
this daughter's song, once bleary cries,
now starts to crystallize,
to wake rosetta, in my arms
so undress the afternoon,
of forgotten airplane blues,
and just choose. stay here for a while.
and you, you the desert's edge,
under the border fence,
with one foot in the west,
still one foot in the west,
just foot in the west.
the kettle boiled to it's copper shell.
a head of steam through the duracel.
to entreat the beauty found within,
and breathe its perfumed offering,
to shiver in the sun.
from those pastel days,
some plans displayed,
and splayed out a pair of reaching hands.
as fortune hesitates,
then takes its place outside among the randomness.
oh follow the stream,
and if what's to come's a dream, then
i'll see a mountain full of gold.
so swing in the breeze,
and sing to me,"when i left home,
when i left home, when i left home.”
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