Indio - The Season Of The Lost

It is the season of the lost
of desert hopes and dreams of rain and sand
A wonder for witness and for worth
that lies in waiting on this open ground
For the celebration of a distant song
of ten wakes from one wave
With God as my witness I have tried
For a closed eye knows a different solitude
But with that sky above that war
and that same sun sets on me
I let the legends and the tallest tales
fall through disappointed hands
Some will die trying and some will see
the sharpest thorns felt are never seen
When the dream is over and the truth is told
the sweetest word spoke is never known
Some Nostradamus hear these words
And take the ruins from this broken sight
And to the servants and the czars
The pious and the fallen grace
For in this sun there is no shine
So be still my wandering friend
Why stand the virtue of some miracle
to hold the beauty in these hands
Some will die trying and some will see
the sharpest thorns felt are never seen
When the dream is over and the truth is told
the sweetest word spoke is never known