Steve Von Till - The Acre | Текст песни

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• Steve Von Till
• The Acre

Like an autumn wind, a chill on the bone
And the shadow drags night across the sky
To see in the gut what is blind to the eyes
Seek council in the angle of the rain

You must work with the acre you are given
And read the signs of your days

Barren sands favor no plow
To all life's work there is a season
The water at your feet, the rich black earth
The fire in your head

You must work with the acre you are given
And read the signs of your days

When the last golden shank hangs down
Like the old horns of the moon
If it rains on the long blasting gaze (?)
The killing frost will bite down hard

You must work with the acre you are given
And read the signs of your days

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