All the Protestant girls They're all swinging their hips Fresh coat of red on their lips In a solar eclipse I sat on the steps Church bells rang in my ears Big blue sky was so clear When the sun disappeared
White horses on the highway ride under this strange and darker sky A wind will come and scatter seeds and it will bury all of these The children sing across the plains their voices rise and quickly fade
On a passenger train Slightly out of my mind All the women so kind Sending chills down my spine And I fell into sleep And in that sleep I did dream That I was torn at the seams I don't know what it means
Inside of mama baby kicks And this house is made of stone and sticks All these things can break my bones and everyone must run alone I run all night with bursting lungs I will always be my mother's son
Yes I will always be my mother's son And I'm no different from anyone
Stopped traffic and stadium lights That's the view from the sky As that old black bird flies I wish I could fly What will we become When we sleep in the dirt Who will rise up first One can never be sure
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Copy to Clipboard: All the Protestant girls They're all swinging their hips Fresh coat of red on their lips In a solar eclipse I sat on the steps Church bells rang in my ears Big blue sky was so clear When the sun disappeared
White horses on the highway ride under this strange and darker sky A wind will come and scatter seeds and it will bury all of these The children sing across the plains their voices rise and quickly fade
On a passenger train Slightly out of my mind All the women so kind Sending chills down my spine And I fell into sleep And in that sleep I did dream That I was torn at the seams I don't know what it means
Inside of mama baby kicks And this house is made of stone and sticks All these things can break my bones and everyone must run alone I run all night with bursting lungs I will always be my mother's son
Yes I will always be my mother's son And I'm no different from anyone
Stopped traffic and stadium lights That's the view from the sky As that old black bird flies I wish I could fly What will we become When we sleep in the dirt Who will rise up first One can never be sure
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