1. |
Preface
01:29
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Mostly the same as Track 2, only not so many of them.
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2. |
Dark Fields
04:10
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There is no word for the blackness hanging on this place
Fool friends have searched among the old forgotten names
There are no stars shining down in their silver grace
We're lost to the dark fields now
The tall grass can hide anything
It will swallow you whole
Like a bottomless well
The longer that you last here
The farther down you'll fall
Blood from a stone, tight fist as white as moon-blanched bone
A people pulled back in on themselves
Silent and forgotten and alone
The ditches run deep, the roots here tangle everything
We're caught in the clutch of shame
Once you come you cannot leave again
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3. |
Sunflower
02:29
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When I wake up I see the sun shining down for you
Shining down for you
And as it warms up your flowers and petals shake off the dew
Shake off the dew
Sunflower so yellow
Against the so blue
I'll take the road out to the fields where you grow
Fields where you grow
And every step brings me closer to see the seeds that you sow
The seeds that you sow
I'll take you with me wherever I may go
I'll take you with me wherever I may go
When I wake up I see the sun shining down for you
Shining down for you
Sunflower so yellow
Against the sky so blue
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4. |
Broken Wheel
04:52
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There are rules for broken wheels
I guess I'd better buy
The bible of flat tires
I've been a little low
For a great big while
And you have bourn the burden
Of this saggin' sigh
There are ghosts
Up and down these roads
They're haunting burned out diners
And drinking black coffee
The signs up on their walls
Though painted in many colors
They don't say a thing
They don't say anything at all
Engine, it struggles just to make it here alive
Honey, I'd just be another ghost if you didn't help me drive
There are whispers
The sagebrush and the sun
The thistle and the lark
They sing to one another
And we could learn to listen
If we only had the time,
The ears and inclination
The reason and the rhyme
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5. |
George Burl
George Burl is a songwriter, producer and something akin to a record label. He is not a person. He is a pseudonym. A philosophical experiment conceived in a small cottage in Nebraska, birthed in the Redwood forests of California and distilled in the hills of Tennessee. ... more
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