Wild Sage
I leave the house as soon as it gets light outside
Like a prisoner breaking out of jail
And I steal down to business 15-501
Like I had a bounty hunter on my tail
And somebody stops to pick me up
But he drops me off just down the block
And along the highway where the empty spirits breathe
Wild sage growing in the weeds
Walked down the soft shoulder and I count my steps
Headed vaguely eastward, sun in my eyes
And I lose my footing and I skin my hands breaking my fall
And I laugh to myself and look up at the skies
And then I think I hear angels in my ears
Like marbles being thrown against a mirror
And along the highway where unlucky stray dogs bleed
Wild sage growing in the weeds
And some days I don't miss my family
And some days I do
Some days I think I'd feel better if I tried harder
Most days I know it's not true
I lay down right where I felt cold grass in my face
And I hear the traffic like the rhythm of the tides
And I stare at the scrape on the heel of my hand
'Til it doesn't sting so much and until the blood's dried
And when somebody asks if I'm okay
I don't know what to say
And along the highway, from cast-off innumerable seeds
Wild sage growing in the weeds
Like a prisoner breaking out of jail
And I steal down to business 15-501
Like I had a bounty hunter on my tail
And somebody stops to pick me up
But he drops me off just down the block
And along the highway where the empty spirits breathe
Wild sage growing in the weeds
Walked down the soft shoulder and I count my steps
Headed vaguely eastward, sun in my eyes
And I lose my footing and I skin my hands breaking my fall
And I laugh to myself and look up at the skies
And then I think I hear angels in my ears
Like marbles being thrown against a mirror
And along the highway where unlucky stray dogs bleed
Wild sage growing in the weeds
And some days I don't miss my family
And some days I do
Some days I think I'd feel better if I tried harder
Most days I know it's not true
I lay down right where I felt cold grass in my face
And I hear the traffic like the rhythm of the tides
And I stare at the scrape on the heel of my hand
'Til it doesn't sting so much and until the blood's dried
And when somebody asks if I'm okay
I don't know what to say
And along the highway, from cast-off innumerable seeds
Wild sage growing in the weeds
Credits
Writer(s): John S Darnielle
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.