Nomads - Howlin' Rain

Carry me back into the sand

Into the sand with the flowers and the fern

Old Mr. Centipede climbing tobacco leaves

Looking for livers and hearts for to eat

Cold and grey clouds staining the sounds

Straining the weight of a sorrowful sky

Wool on the trees, dust on the eves

The bark on the pines is worse than its bite

All of the lines have been lies this far, there is a feeling I must keep from

you

The hills of nomads, we envy their lives

Apicture we love;

Hills Have Eyes

This old motel song you dig when you’re stoned

But sounds like a cheap shot when you’re sober and cold

But if you are as stoned as a ghost in the snow, your eyes will be blue flames

These lines are crawling snakes up your open legs

You wear them pale and fine

This is the line I’ll give you true as the dawn

While the furious eye on the sun is upon us

The way your breasts dance while we’re making love

Now that is a line penned by… a divinely guided hand

Tailwind carry the birds to the coast to watch the clouds roll along

Pollen and pitch whisper the scripture of kings in a tongue only spoken by

ghosts