this is not mine...it's yours

a million tents and trailors will cover the open desert

your kids will learn again how to build a fire where to look
for water and the families are bound together now by the
fall of all the great cities finally to sing out thier
stories and the histories of hunger and victory
back into the old gypsy circles where the swaying girls
will play out the old rituals and the boys will be dilerious
desperate and serious the chasing will be furious
the drums and the rain will come together howlin'
cities are all lost but the circles are found
and it'll tie us together...

who were you before the fall?
i was a painter, saw the future
layed out in dominoes
now i hunt the buffalo...

(once again w/o spell check)