Tired Hands
The Last Bison
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You stayed an hour
From where I once laid
With back on the grass
And feet where it was paved
Where water mixed in
With the rust and decay
You slept while I wept
You slept
I wept
Waiting
Praying
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Twenty-four hours of waiting is not that long (Hey)
But dear, as the light starts to fading,
My heart grows fond (Hey)
Its a product of absence I’m sure
Still I over-analyze (Hey)
A day without words makes me wonder
If your fingers grew tired
If you misplaced the wires
Under the water
Out the other side
We were intercepted
By fathers and scribes
With burnt offerings
We had finally arrived
You slept while I wept
You slept
I wept
Waiting
Praying