as hound dogs kill the blood doesn't spill just to prove themselves the hounds of men oh the madness in the natural ways taking course and keeping the balance of the land
My feet are tired and all I'd like to do Is find myself a good rocking chair With a shoebox of photographs and a pack of matches Then I'll get started on forgetting you
Well I was off by a long, lonely mile Caught in the fog of the wayward smile There's splitting once again And this time I'm in the black Now that I clearly see the borderline There's no turning back
As I get to thinking back You know, we grew up by the railroad tracks And now I like all them old train songs After walking those tracks for so damn long
Piles of leaves, kids were laughing and jumping I closed my eyes, your hair was blowing across my chin My hands under your sweater, the warmth there like an old friend Then you pulled me close and whispered