Dust Like History On Fire
With Everything Packed
And On the Road
They Move Off Into the Darkness
Of a New World
Falling Into the Marching
Ghosts of Their Memory
A Land Blown Open of Tears
And Slow Voices
Pray That the Sun Rises
And Our Shuffling Feet Put Distance
On Every Machine
For Apples Will Grow in the Garden
And History Will Not Be Stilled

On This Album