Lonesome Trail

LONESOME TRAIL

Skin scarred and leathered from the sun,
like the cracked and arid earth
The haze like that from a smoking gun,
or a witness at Satan’s birth

Even shadows find no place to hide
or shelter from its touch
Many a strong man has come out here,
just to leave when it gets too much

But I stay here each night and day,
in this god-forsaken place
Wary of any who pass close by,
they see a mask but not my face

The home that seems so far away,
and its people that I love
I look down through the eye of the eagle;
they look back through the eyes of the dove

So, before you ever venture here,
to the ridge of broken dreams
Be happy if you can’t stand the heat;
be not proud that you have the means

For the ridge is the loneliest place on earth,
always cruel and harsh, not kind
Just don’t ever cross the border,
or look for me to find

Each step I take is heading home,
and to heed the words I’ve said
Just remember the path to this barren place
lies deep inside you’re head

So just keep calling to guide me back,
so it’s towards your voice that I can run
And step back into the dove’s fine world,
and from the eagles blinding sun

I used to play out here when I was a kid;
it seemed a fine and friendly place
Now older and wiser I understand,
I saw its mask but not its face

When I return back to your voice,
blistered, burnt and frail
I’ll stand guard at the border for all that I know,
and steer them from the lonesome trail

© Iain Merchant 2002