The Mountains Make Way

From the places you go by waiting Places you go by night Come up. Come up. Undefeated As we veer again towards center lines Should have left those kids believers Or at least with parting shot The silence. The silence between evenings Should not be left to rot Such wild eyed language, written On the backs of our hands The necessary candor is lost In drunken demonstration Some of them come like a redeemer All drunk and loud and sure We've cut ourselves back to simple things They're small enough we can keep them pure