Something About Skies of Blue...

Words and music by Bill Price

A thunderbird danced and a black bear roared as the cool rain fell on the Sycamore
As the falcons flew

So how could we think when we crossed to this shore, there was no sense of place, no existence before
Our rendezvous

There was no Land of Lincoln, no Land of Dixie, no one-eight-hundred, no zero to sixty
No Fifth Avenue

But I hear tell, the skies were blue

And I saw John the Baptist - he was looking for clear water
To cleanse some old, old wounds as the days grew hotter and hotter
Seems that he died in vain in the arms of the councilman's daughter - No one had a clue

I met a painter on Fountain Square - I said, "The wind and the river and the mountains are there
Waiting just for you"

But gone was the forest cut by the knife - the sun and the skies that brought peace to my strife
Were now obscured from view

Was I a demon of destruction, part of their plan, a pawn of persistence, dog of supply and demand
Locked in servitude?

Tainting the skies of blue

And I saw John the Baptist - he was looking for clear water
To cleanse some old, old wounds as the days grew hotter and hotter
Seems that he died in vain in the arms of the councilman's daughter - No one had a clue

Now the mistress she dances (Plant the seeds for our rebirth)
Across the aisle (String the bow with holy flame)
While the great white father (Secure the circle of the earth)
Says his wife never smiles (Face four directions taking aim)
That may be true

And I saw John the Baptist - he was looking for clear water
To cleanse some old, old wounds as the days grew hotter and hotter
Seems that he died in vain in the arms of the councilman's daughter - No one had a clue

So I crawled to the gypsy and took off my hat - there was a crown of thorns, she said, "Look at that"
She said, "That's not for you"

I said, "Well, what can I do as we break the rainbow - as every day I see the stain grow
For the sake of revenue?"

When I think of the future, it won't be tomorrow - seven generations, will they feel sorrow
For the things that I do

I'm on my knees and I'm praying that their skies will be blue

And I saw John the Baptist - he was looking for clear water
To cleanse some old, old wounds as the days grew hotter and hotter
Seems that he died in vain in the arms of the councilman's daughter - No one had a clue

They said his last words were full but few
Something about skies of blue...

© 2003 Mr. Quill Music (BMI)