harmonica soundtrack
and all this folky adventure

we were the worn and dirtied hats
of a mythic burnt down american dreaming
we were the momentary disappearing sparks
from a dead zippo

but the holy steam engine
made bright blue morning
possible again

when the little boy on the hiltop with his ripped jeans shields his eyes from the sun and stairs out into the existence and all the whirling isness, will he see us striding mirage across that thin line where heaven makes love to earth or just another bit of marble with etched words

the coal mines and the steal bridges
when the wind hits em just right
howl out infinite songs and ohm
simply ohm
simply ohm and on
like white noise
the sound of it all
ringing in ears that can't hear it
cuz its just to much perfect shining holy

be white noise with me
i can't think of a better plan for the afternoon