Let your head hang low
If you've drawn yourself a breath
you know the wind can wrest
the world out of your hold
As it sank down low dark before
the whistle blows too young to slumber
blood marauding as it flows
And we're all downstream
from somebody else's dream
And we're all downwind
when the ash picks up again
And we all ought to go
where the exiled people go their
bonfires burn your bones
The rumble in your throat how
it burns so Through your crooked lines
I know a mile is just a mile to a young
soul rolling over broken hearts lives in tow
Between us would you say that to a child
Would you say that to a baby
In a small small town would you lay
your troubles down In a small small town
would you lay your troubles down
And we're all downstream
from somebody else's dream
And we're all downwind
when the ash picks up again
And we all ought to go where the exiled
people go their bonfires burn your bones