The geese have flown from the fields,
and I met nobody in the mountains.
There's a moonlight on the meadow
and warm sulfuric fountains.
And the cavalry is running on broken legs.
There's a wind out on the hill
with an old harmonica swaying
down to the afterhour days
where the motion pictures keep playing.
Can that old feeling come back another way?
There ain't no 100 miles away
Can't you see me when I'm moving?
Do you remember why you give?
These lovers are left to wondering
why they cannot have what makes them live.
I've only seen broken treasures inside a cage.
Our fingertips are calloused.
The moths are flitting on the screen.
Our eyes are still focused on a palace
somewhere deep inside our dream.
Although my hands are tied, I was not born a slave.
There ain't no 100 miles away