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| Common Things |
| Beth Amsel ©2001 Good Egg Music |
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I cross the border from New Mexico I'm a refugee from Colorado With an axe to cut my exile down to size Kachina dolls hang in the wind a holy ghost I am born again in all that I adore and I despise The radio signal comes from somewhere west of Farmington and I believe in every word it says Coming from the point of view that no one ever knows you I hoble into town where I am known I watch the angus cross the flats the barbed wire fence that hold them back and in every kink of sharpened steel I'm home The pleasure of your weathered skin the thought of knowing thirst again and summer sere and violent across the plains This is ressurection still a lesson, death, and burial and rise up through the limestone once again All these commong things bits and pieces of your life blown apart and rearranged and as far as I can tell, as far as I can tell you're still the same Grab the gate, I make sure its latched I bit the end off a red head match and the sulfur keeps me honest to the core I scuff the dirt off of my shoes and hang my head like I'm supposed to and I drop the wrought iron knocker against the door All these commong things bits and pieces of your life blown apart and rearranged and as far as I can tell, as far as I can tell you're still the same |
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