[Spoken]
They can see us for miles, dressed up like scarecrows and bandits
Carrying everything we own and walking in groups along the edges of the road to Hell
Sticking our noses up at the passing cars
Turning down rides, shuttin' our eyes
To keep the dust out
And while we might have forgotten everything else that happened between our birth and our death
No one ever, ever, ever, ever forgets their name
And your name
Your name is a two-syllable word meaning "gift from god"
Did you know that?
Now, I wouldn't know God from Eve, frankly
I-I haven't met God myself, I don't know anyone that has so I can't vouch for her gift-giving abilities
Maybe she put a lot of thought into you
Or maybe you were something she picked up at the 24-hour petrol station at the last minute, on the way to the party
Maybe she supplemented you with a couple of bottles of cheap white wine and accidentally-on-purpose left one of the bottles in the car
Or maybe, she made you herself, in her spare time, out of glitter an-an-and clay and left-over scraps of dying stars
Maybe she didn't name you at all, your name just was
An observation and a statement of fact
Here, here they are, a gift from god
Now, I don't know you Gift-From-God but I don't need to know you to know that I trust you
And I think that we would do well to stick together
Because, ya know, down here, the winters kill one-in-ten
And the summers wipe out most of the rest
And bands of angels stalk the ridges at high noon looking for the sick and dying to separate from the herd and digest
And I can distract the vultures while you sneak in behind them and raid their nests
And we can keep watch while the others sleep and take turns schlepping at the sins that we've yet to confess
And they will see us
For miles
Dressed up like scarecrows
And bandits
Carrying everything we own
Walking in groups along the edges of the road to hell
Not entirely alone