Idaho - Jeffrey Foucault

I know it isn’t Idaho

Where the sun goes when it goes

Down, over the river

Strange birds on the fence line

It’s going to get cold tonight

I know it isn’t Idaho

How many shades of blue

Are dying from me to you?

Are the stars only soldered to the sky

Salt tears gone white and dry?

Who could leave it all behind

Metal flesh bone and brine?

I know it isn’t Idaho

Horses heart blood and wine

That’s the color of the sun when it’s dying

Down, over the river, down, over the river