Folded crop circled forming a claustrophobic maze
Holding onto the storm clouds if you’re saying it out loud
Shame on you
Mountain passes all painted white
The old ghost of Lincoln heights cave
Winter’s almost through
Engaging in illegal exchanges
Meeting with strangers names
Old faces, and thumbs signing lullabies
The same day that music died
Wait!
The stock was for a lot longer than a little while
Now I got to climb to the bluff
The great outdoors came at the price of a little time
With the hunters & gatherers on the run

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