Strands - Son Volt
There is a slowness on the throttle
Possibility at hand
Painted out of a corner
Brakes to bind the strands
To decide within the bar store
Overshadows feeding in the lurch
Just survived by a stone's throw
The decision wheel's at work
Used to be found it temporary
Sirens stir the seeds of regret
Gathered clouds are unleashing
Sounds to walk and place your bet
Squatters on high stations
The talkers that hold sway
The verbal backslide rushes out
Like grapeshot-fine spray
No anchor drops sanctuary
No earmark begins to show
No finding it uncovered
Just a wide swing tremolo
Broken-down lessons learned
Redeemed on epitaphs
Pop line folded regulars
With countance to switchback
Echo farewell to midnight
To the loneliness of the chase
To the minutes passed as red letter
To the vision fields defaced
No pangs provide the levy
Breaking out of the throes
No revelry decided
Just a wide swing tremolo
No mercy in a poker face
Went in here before you go
No sentence yet decided
Just a wide swing tremolo
