Hawks on the Run

Hawks on the run with the sound of a pointed gun
March to the beat of a crooked heart that I must keep
No sign of my name in God’s will
Do or die
Trying to get right with what’s left
So much for surprise we all got to get off
Kites in the sun ribbon down creeks of solar blood
Waltz with the trees
Touch the pulsing drums on shoreline’s feet
Count on misfortunes to peel
Cracks in the eyelids of dawn
White capped with fear
How far can islands move on?
When lonesome the mountain will call
Ice trapped the future will hear