Stolen Shoes And A Rifle
Weather is like feathers on fire*
Ground's like a sound in my feet
I can’t stop my shaking I’ve been traveling so low
And the shoes I’ve been wearing, well they’re long and somewhat slow
And a giant waking bird shakes the trees above my head
Stolen shoes and a rifle I just can’t seem to stay dead
Oh the stones won’t be lonely here this year it's gone now
My lover she’s got brothers down in Natchez
They worship at the foot of the keep
My trails been cold for days but I hear them all the same
Scattered out like wildfire on the plain
And the giant waking bird shakes the trees above my head
Stolen shoes and a rifle I just can’t seem to stay dead
Oh the stones won’t be lonely here this year it's gone now
Weather is like feathers on fire