Wind On Tin

Southbound 90

Past the locked up luxury store

Tourists take photographs

You're not a tourist here no more

They're taxing the adobe now

That the money moved into town

Chasing a legend

But one less legend is

Raking the grounds

Helpless, helpless, helpless

We all sang along

There is a braid that binds us

And his thread ain't gone

Heard a sound so heavenly

Were the angels singing just for us?

Or is that what the wind

Out here does on tin?

I heard God

I heard God

I heard God

I heard God

Nothing will get you like

Seeing a cowboy cry

Nothing will get you like

Seeing a cowboy cry

I heard God

I heard God

I heard God

I heard God