Nothing Left to Hate

Scratched in stone For anyone to read Everything belongs And then it leaves A silence that ain't empty A blindness that ain't dark We've been headed south From the very start And the road's a shimmer On a sagebrush sea Cut between the highlands And the deadwood trees And though we started early We got here real late And we ain't got nothin' left to hate Across the stones Above the flats Them shadows steal deep into our past And we shake the dead But some still breathe Yeah we shake the dead And some still dream Smoke from burning tires Above the squatters camp He met us at the road And led us with his lamp The night gone breathless The chill gone pure You know we think too much Until we think no more Rock-a-my-soul-in-the-bosom-of-Abraham