The Grinding Wheel

It was out in the wasteland
And the boar was standing still
I was hanging like a reptile
With the fire down below
So I climbed the big scene
To watch the river flow
Kachina never spoke of weather
Nor the mercy on a bed of nails
But someone should have checked the waterline
They’re drowning in among the kills
And this winter
Comes on like a bitter vine
There is a place there by that broken tower
A den of preachers couldn’t keep at bay
Bound to the current of an open sea
We are too afraid to listen
Long before that day
In the guise of water
There came a desert rain
And the Grinding Wheel will turn
And to that sea we can follow her down
Where there is room for the meek
Far from the din and the squalor
High on the gunfire
Far from the wheel
Hands never touch the bodies
And eyes never see the sun
I lie awake in this season
And stay close to the open road
As they go dancing in the fields
Digging deep for that motherlode
And down in the mill
It’s just a bird in the big blue sky
A lion in the wheel
Is just a stone in the deep blue sea
Long before that day
In the guise of water
There came a desert rain
Oh, and the Grinding Wheel will turn
And to that sea we can follow her down
Where there is room for the meek
Far from the din and the squalor
And the Grinding Wheel will turn
A better road for the fallow and sane
Where there is room for the meek
Far from the din and the squalor
She dances alone by the waterline
Find another cheek to turn away
While the boar lies still inside the naked
Spirit...
...come to me