Pilgrim from Pilgrim by Roger Dean Young & the tin cup

Pilgrim

… I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you,
I'd never a-drivin on by myself,
but now that we're here it's something else,
the sky uninvolved in all the smoke that's risin up
on either side.

Fireworks strewn along the shore,
rusted carcass embedded in the bank,
we skipped our stones through pools of light,
you and I invited here for nothing less than intersection
with the one.

And we drive so far

…And it's a dirty dirty highway with a golden skyline,
you smile through the windshield at the world goin by you,
seven wonders waitin on the beaches to be found by
we the acolytes, pilgrims to the sun.

She said if your magazine speaks of sun-beaten mesas,
and this reads like the bible to you,
there's a passenger seat in my wagon for you,
it's painted red and white, cuttin through a swath a light
on into the setting.

And if you believe in something else,
hung your hat out on some mountain top,
docked your hymnal, slipped out of your pew,
I'll tell you what to do - move.

And we drive so far

…And it's a dirty dirty highway with a golden skyline,
you smile through the windshield at the world goin by you,
seven wonders waitin on the beaches to be found by
we the acolytes, pilgrims to the sun.

• Folk
• ramshackle
• Victoria