Indian moon

Im in a quite mood it was the third of june

Listening winds fell upon the trees

Stretching in the sun

Clinging deep within this earth

Go and hunt it yourself

Souls freedom found on this archers bow

In the hour of dreams

Indian moons harvest me

I saw his face curiously misshapen a wealthy

Skin on his lap and I began to mistrust him

Eyes in jest with blood and oil

I see you well behind a mushroom cloud

Look Mr. President I see you’ve cast your bets with

The crimson king

Come down form gainsay and humble yourself

To simple things

Tis not in glory of war in toil with strong denial

Hes stacked up his treasures and hoisted the sails

Clamors in sleepy respite sayin rest rest

Don’t you lull me to sleep convenience, fast food, petro chemicals and war

In the hour of dreams Indian moons harvest me

Tell her shes wasted in like in deserts where no men abide

Dear Edmund I do believe you were right

Withered in the sun wasted out on the line

(Repeat first verse)

©2007