Wild Heart

Crouched in the sage brush pounding down low
Feet in the foot prints followed through the rows

The winters wield has born down on this place
Hunger and isolation mark the hillsides steeping pace

Silent as the snow falls whispering on the wind
Ambivalence is no stranger as the ice begins to thin

Watching through the meadow laying flat and still
Waiting for the moment perfect to unleash its will

My heart is a wild heart waiting just from view
My heart is wild heart never knowing what it might do

Twisting through the tree tops and borrowing below
Searching for salvation where the grass begins to grow

Photos are blackened and shattered full of haze
A ghostly glimpse through a Polaroid taken to the grave

Down deep in a shoebox pushed back under the bed
Only to be reconciled over warm wine and lips painted red

Workers in the field, loaded rifles and masks worn on backs
Legends of heresy and a sprit poised to make another attack

My heart is a wild heart slipping through what all is seen
My heart is a wild heart big, unforgiving and mean