Josh Ritter
     Potter's Wheel 

     I close my eyes and it all returns like the spinning of a potter's wheel
     trying to stay ahead a morning as time came running with us
     and she beat us to the finish as we ran through the fields
     you were born in the city and you didn't recognise me
     your beauty unexpected like a flower in the concrete
     some gods far below the worlds undiscovered
     set you up to ruin temples to find me on the streets

     I'm an alias of who I am a counterfeited fake
     in the picture I am kneeling like a dying saint jerome
     hurling rocks at the demons who tried to come too near
     till you came in and possessed me now I feel at home
     I remember the time I walked for seven hours
     and thought about the people I had known for so long
     all the castles I had built of of fine and precious sand
     till you came in like the tide now I don't care that they are gone

     as we floated up the river I translated the verses
     that were written on memorials for the ships that had sank
     and I thought about the people that traded sinking for uncertainty
     and drowned because of lonliness before they reached the banks

     on a beach near Barcelona the young girls cry for mary
     and they bury earthen vessels in the rocks by the sea
     I am sending out a bottle with a prayer upon the waves
     that you'll find inside my picture and your memory will unfold me

     we were talking about a trip that I had taken to the canyons
     and you told me of a river that had cut through time
     leaving only the pictures of long dead sons and daughters
     and you told that the paintings looked a lot like mine
     I try and watch myself to see what I am saying
     but my heart is on my collar and I'm asking you to take it
     I don't want to go back to the way things were before
     before the dawn turns into morning I want you there to break it

     and a thousand years from now when our names are just a memory
     and poets have recorded what happened in the past
     lovers loving in the night will find our forms in constellations
     seekers seeking for salvation will find our stories in the stained glass
     a boy in the city who has never seen the morning
     as he's running arm in arm with you through the fields
     will be caught unexpected by a flower in the concrete
     it will all return again just like a potter's wheel