walking round the lake
waiting for the setting sun
going down in arizona
til the singing birds are done
you can take a trolley to see
roads i know from memory
hanging moss from old oak trees
from bike rides to wounded knees
i can barely remember my home town
and the houses down on stevens street
family I had never known
the boy they came out to meet
my heart still sits in Oxford square
next to Count No-Count's eternal stare
his sordid life and long affair
still float around in disrepair
lift my eyes and I behold
who I really am
the nail scared hand is mine to hold
saved by the blood of the lamb
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