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• Artiste: Jeffrey Foucault
• Titre: Thistledown Tears
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Take me down to the bottom land Good as any and we'll make our stand Hide our money in the bucket of the well Keep your head down low it's blowing like hell Reverend said it's a Judgement Day Land turned to dust where it used to be clay There's a darkness coming and it's well past dawn Roomful of candles and the lights all gone So don't cry your thistledown tears Blood and water both run clear The time to wrestle the angel is here And the night is quickly passing Hymn songs drumming the dusk of the rooms Glory go marching in the thread of a tune Light up your lanterns and lay down your cares Saint John he's riding the four white mares (Ref) Churchbells ringing in the pounding wind Ringing the dead men to rise up again There's dust comin' in at foot of the door The moon and the tide and the earthly shore The pull and the spin of a timed out reel Hearts made of flint and words made of steel The wind comes down off the Texas plain Abel's calling to raise up cane (Ref) The dawn rolls under the fenceline wires Oily and cold but breathing of fire The cock he's crowing the daylight of dreams For Judas and mercy and every in between For Judas and mercy and every in between