Shawn Phillips

I keep lookin' down out of my windows at the people below So slow I keep lookin' down out of my

Oh, archer with your bowstring tight Won't you let fly with your shaft of light Are you hunting your

I took a walk through the fields of America I'll tell you what I saw in the middle of the garbage and

Saturday morning, yeah I come in late Just to find if you were there Just to look at your long brown

In the consecrated chambers Of a mountain's winter day I left her at the turning To go on her

Mama When you coming home Mama When you coming home Mama You don't have to roam

I talk to the lady with the steel gray eyes While the sun is going down And we talk of the things that we

Lightning slaying shadows In the tremors of the night While he creeps among the alleys Bringing fear

Yellow flowers bought today I bought 'em from the man who lives in the other way Wilting flowers

Now I told you a long time ago, that I'd hold you Never let you go behind Anywhere I might flow

T'was a man of youthful features T'was a boy of sorrowful eyes Watching out by looking inward