Landscape Grown Cold

Lyrics
The trees standing naked The ground underfoot Is a dark cellar, cool The battleship skies So heavy my shoulders droop It's a lean kind of day That I sometimes pass through The vines are like veins On the old village wall Where the grass turns to white And way down the road I see smoke from another world In a room I'm not welcome Removed from my life I sit in the ditch And I dig in the sand With the heel of my sole Sink down in my coat collar Back to the wind that blows Insane by myself In a landscape grown cold The painted tin sign Flaps back in the wind Where the green bottles lay And a window of boards Facing hollow upon the dust Empty chairs sit in judgment Accusing the day I sit in the ditch And I dig in the sand With the heel of my sole Sink down in my coat collar Back to the wind that blows Insane by myself In a landscape grown cold
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Credits
- Writers
- John Hartford