I was born in a ghost town
out on the desolate plain
the only landmark on the landscape
was the track of a train
heading out to the horizon
where the wide world begins
under the northern star
where the Earth spins
My grandpa was a farmer
I'm a useless bum
an undefined disappointment
to my dad and my mom
I'm in a lost generation
that just generates despair
but I'll get where I'm going
I'm going nowhere
It's all dharma and karma
and I believe I believe
there's a mangy dog tugging
at the soul of my sleeve
my flesh is hanging
from these willowy limbs
there's music in the spheres
it sounds like gypsy hymns
I'm gonna go out west
wish I could stay in the east
I'm travelling with Saint Christopher
going to see Saint Jean Baptiste
north of North Dakota
in south Saskatchewan
we made it to Moose Mountain
but the moose was gone
And I dream of Betty
Betty with the carroty hair
and I dream of Betty
but she does not care
now the sun is a flower
wilting up above
I feel the latent power
of my jilting love
Trees are prayers
the life of a leaf has weight
I got no fixed plans now
so I can't be late
and just because I'm rambling
doesn't mean things won't end
you know I try to care for you
and when I don't, I just pretend
All I got is time
time is running out
I've never been a believer
not even in my doubt
I never got baptized
never did wanna drown
now everywhere I go
I'm treading holy ground
I think I know what I'm going for
under this hatchery of stars
we make our little love here
it's all we can call ours
and in the fossil record
we are blessed with days
as our hearts step in lonely,
unknowing, unknown ways
When Orion goes hunting
I wanna go too
wherever I may go
I go with the thought of you
I don't know when I'll see you
you know I wish you well
my heart is now wandering
where no misery can tell
They say the world is round
and if it is, then it can't take sides
I said, I'm sorry
now I'm sorry I lied
kindness must watch for me
on this side of the ground
on the side of the world
where I'm sliding down
I'm working my way
my way back home
but I don't think I'll get there
at least not on my own
I follow the creek
it just bends and bends
the bulrush says, There's no rush
Well, bulrush, that depends
credits
from Sweetgrass Trail,
track released May 1, 2015
Paul Bergman • bass, drums & percussion, guitar, keyboard, voice
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