PASSING THROUGH ROSWELL the same old winds have been blowing the same old dust through the same old hills since that day back in '47. some of this old air that i'm breathing in was in his dying breaths way back then. breathing in ... exhaling songs of dying men when i got outta school, i couldn't get outta there fast enough now the road back to the hills of my home has gotten rough alien landscapes and that high lonesome tune coronado, kit carson, cochise, and the man on the moon all the years that i spent in these hills but this is one place that i never carried my load. some of the dust that my feet are kicking up line the ancient trails while yesterdays erode. ancient footprints --- walking down their final road headed out for texas from up north in santa fe all the roads i'd never been down... turned out they're on the way passed by the ghosts of escalante in the late afternoon anasazi, bedonkohe, chiricahua, and the man on the moon all of the miles of this harsh paradise take a toll on the strongest of bones. of all the worn-out bones resting down in the ground there are none so far from their home. far away --- far away and all alone. my pillow was a guidebook that says, "history's for sale" fell asleep to the sound of the lonesome wolfhound wail dreamt of a field of debris that was no weather balloon. cougars, coyotes, chupucabras, and the man on the moon where i come from the government's got a secret grey city, and i know that's where you spent your final days a traveller can't always choose the paths that he goes down, and he can't always choose his final resting place rest in peace ... travel well and die with grace passed through roswell, late october, just before the snow then texas, las cruces, and chihuahua, mexico and that alien landscape still sings her high lonesome tune coronado, kit carson, cochise, and the man on the moon kokopelli, quetzalcoatl, saint maria, and the man on the moon earth and sky, stars at night, wind and water, and the sun and the moon