White On The Ground (Live from the Living Room)

Well I haven't seen snow in a couple of years

It's still dry in the desert this time of year

There's cracks in the ground for the poor man's tears

There's brown in the bushes for the raven and deer

There's a hollow hope sounding from the hole in the ground

It's the squeak of the wheel, it's the hush of the town

There's a fire for the morning though there's no one around

To be felt by the flicker of the flame on the ground

Saddle up son

We'll be riding at dawn

That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow

We ride through the willow, till the grass on the mound

Has a thick thick blanket

Of white on the ground

The wind whistles meaner things than I'll ever say

The cold to a stranger is a hoof to the clay

Never I remember such greed in an eye

The judge is a joker and he lives in the sky

Saddle up son

We'll be riding at dawn

That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow

We ride through the willow, till the grass on the mound

Has a thick thick blanket

Of white on the ground

Well I haven't been home in a couple of years

The snow is a ransom for my younger years

Hell isn't burning it's the chill of the night

And it's all frozen over and it's covered in white

Saddle up son

We'll be riding at dawn

That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow

We ride through the willow, to the grass on the mound

And may God take the memory

Of white on the ground