I was born like the fruit
That falls down by the root
On the banks of American Creek
I dropped down from a height
Like a thief in the night
To inherit the lot of the meek
I learned mercy and love
From the purple-winged dove
As she sang me the songs of the weak
But I longed to forsake
Like the red-bellied snake
On the banks of American Creek
I grew bold in the shade
Til I outgrew that glade
With dreams of the havoc I would reek
So I climbed to a point
Where the clouds might anoint
Any soul who had bothered to seek
And the mountain came down
And I tore at it's crown
Til it hung like a moon from my beak
Then I fell full of lies
As a hawk from the skies
On the rats of American Creek
I had lied I had sinned
Tried to hide on the wind
I had covered myself with mystique
With the masks I had worn
The pains I had borne
And the prayers I would speak
I had made a mistake
Like the rat and the snake
I had learned not to find but to seek
So I spoiled like the fruit
Left to rot by the root
On the banks of American Creek
credits
from Beasts of the Field,
released November 16, 2014
words & music Patrick Lyons copyright catskinnermusic 2014
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