01 Scattered Bones
The farmer and his wife
Strolled out through the seasons
Never was a day, a day that went by that they did not tell of the broken lies
And scattered bones
They fell like sharp,
Sharp winds on a cold night
And scattered many dreams, which blew in faces of the ancients
Called by the river
They strolled through the land
Called by the ancient
Storyteller’s hand
Picking up the bones they lay
Down, down
Down, down
Down, down
And the winds they blew
So hard, they blew so hard
That they fell, to the ground,
Where the bones, they lay,
And the river it wept
Through the broken land
Through the broken land
The land of the ancients flows though our veins
The same things
The same things…..remain
