Cloud Liquor

inside these hands there's a country

the fields cut by roads and the sweet tall grass

flowing softly, licked by the wind and the rain coming down hard

i hold tight in a tree outside for the winds will loudly grow

inside these hands there's a country

and as twilight approaches i will sing my oldest songs

i will try to make my voice like a bird awakened suddenly

and all the ghosts will rise through the dust and i will know this is paradise

i look up to the bright black sky

and i see your face beyond the clouds

lift me up from this dusty lawn

so i can die in the loneliness of your eyes