From the recording For the Birds
Lyrics
See them spinning bells
Pinned to a circle of wood
It’s a silver spray of melody
A melody in the blood
And I rise up
It’s the memory of a quickened pulse
It’s a waking dream of love
You go under it
And you go home
See them younger men
Playing that tambourine
And every note is a battleground
Keeping up with the drum
To fire it up
It’s the memory of a quickened pulse
It’s a waking dream of love
You go under it
And you go home
See them nickel strings
Pinned to thinnest of wood
It’s a silver spray of melody
It’s the fire inside my blood
And I light up
It’s the memory of a quickened pulse
It’s a waking dream of love
You go under it
And you go home