Strange Language

Up on the bluff, where I wish I was

Twisting up the pages of history

My cold feet dangling, my bony arms gesturing

To summon up a little chunk of that history

In the corridor the shadows are long

And it messes with my equilibrium

And there's strains of a strange language

Up on the bluff, where the hardwoods jut

Out toward the gusts of history

My crusty mind cracks, my restless heart tracks

The fractal lines of history

In the corridor the shadows are long

And it messes with my equilibrium

And there's strains of a strange language

In the corridor the shadows are long

And it messes with my equilibrium

And there's strains of a strange language