Woven Hand Wooden Brother we hit the floor just like her blue silk slip dark puritan rose to the curve ofher hip i did not know it was too much too much for me to handle to be shown to the heart of the matter by your holy candle the clank of your second hand the stare of your glass eye have i no wisdom that is not wise in that way we laid the rail a woven handmade indian i spoke and understood your golden virginian still not a day goes by something always something always by and by sing the same old song in the same old way through mystic maze of memory our days of disarray stood still in the same place twice just to cast a shadow cast down by a western sun you have the right to know