Old Bones and Dead Coffee Pots
Something that I oughta know
come to me 'long time ago,
made me drift too far from home;
Great Britain, France, Paris, Rome.
I've seen the world and back again.
There's no place I haven't been,
but to collect me dreams and scattered thoughts
takes old bones and dead coffee pots.
Buried deep in time and sand
the skeletons long left by man,
a his'try of the days gone by
left to rust beneath copper sky.
I read what's etched in tine and bone
and found what I've always known;
to collect my sould and scattered thoughts
takes old bones and dead coffee pots.