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


Chris Eckman, ''Nothing Left To Hate''

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