Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
|
Twistin' up the pages of history
|
My cold feet danglin', my bony arms gesturin'
|
To summon up little chunk of that history
|
|
In the corridor the shadows are long
|
And it messes with my equilibrium
|
And there's strains of a strange language
|
|
Up on the bluff, where the hardwood's jut
|
Out toward the gusts of history
|
My crusty mind cracks, my restless heart tracks
|
The fractal lines of history
|
|
In the corridor the shadows are long
|
And it messes with my equilibrium
|
And there's strains of a strange language
|
|
In the corridor the shadows are long
|
And it messes with my equilibrium
|
And there's strains of a strange language
|
|
Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
|
Twistin' up the pages of history
|
My cold feet danglin', my bony arms gesturin'
|
|
-----------------
|
Strange Language
|
| Cowboy Junkies |
