Borderline

Well, broken lines and double binds,
it happens all the time,
when you’re traveling,
when you’re traveling blind,
when you’re out on the borderline.
Your tired roses and your glass of dust,
And your precious things they don’t mean much,
when you’re traveling, when you’re traveling rough,
when you’re out on the borderline.
And the trash fires burn for miles around,
there’s no water to be found,
and the sun stares down like a derelict clown,
you stand in your hunger and you pray to be found,
out on the borderline, on the borderline.
The moon is gone now and the ground’s turned cold,
and you think about the stories old,
and you don’t need money, no you don’t need gold,
you’re out on the borderline.
Oh sweet Maria, I can see your face,
enfold me in your mystery’s grace,
for I am lost in this desert place,
I’m out on the borderline.
And the trash fires burn for miles around,
there’s no water to be found,
and the sun stares down like a derelict clown,
you stand in your hunger and you pray to be found,
out on the borderline, on the borderline.
You shut your eyes now and you fall to sleep,
and you sink like a stone through waters deep,
miles further on there’s a promise to keep,
you’re out on the borderline.
And the trash fires burn for miles around,
there’s no water to be found,
and the sun stares down like a derelict clown,
you stand in the hunger and you pray to be found,
our on the borderline, on the borderline.