Natchez Trace

from by The Gold Rust

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Churning up the ground where our footfalls fell
Where the path became a line became a road
Waiting for the trees to make the concrete swell
And the wild remembers what it use to know

And the echo’s of your hallowed ground
Will haunt us to the marrow of our bones

The river’s getting weary on it’s pathway down
As the rain becomes the stream becomes the sea
It’s just gathering its strength
Before we’re all long gone
That river doesn’t need a lullaby from me

The circle’s bound to break
And the cradle’s about to fall
There’s a mighty sound
When they bring down the walls
If the center holds it just might free us all
When the trumpet sounds
The stars start swirling around

And the howling of the wolves my child
Will calm you to the bottom of your soul

All good things it seems they’ve gone quiet now
As the death becomes the night becomes the dawn
The storm is gathering outside the gate my child
So I think I’ll just sit and watch it come


from Hydrology, released October 17, 2016



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The Gold Rust Bend, Oregon

just sitting here waiting for the volcanoes. earthquakes. the cold, cold surf. the sunsets when the forests are burning. moonlight above the lava flows. at night. cigarette smoke slowly drifting away when the wind finally stops blowing. slackwater warm. between tennessee and ireland you're just treading water. between the devil and the deep green sea. from one savage shore to another. ... more

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