13 Lyrics & Chords By Brent Walsh

In the middle of a field of swaying wheat grass there stands a man in a suit waving
Just a slight guesture of a hand
His eyes were a squint as if somewhere before his gaze and mine meet his sight is stolen
His blank stare accented by dry, slightly parted lips that look like gasping for breathe is a hobby long lost
below the steel beneath my feet begins its subtle but growing vibration, and i'm to captivated by the image of this lost soul to take any notice
suddenly his weight becomes free from his prior self-confusion
becomes one of fond farewell
The mans face now brightened with a smile as pure and genuine as his eyes
Which had turned a color to match his suit
It's as if life had graced this man with a replica of birth
I didn't feel the initial contact of the train
nor did i feel any pain or even slight discomfort
i now lay on my back 13 feet from where i last stood
the man, a distraction
a lonely detail of an elaborate self conconsius decoy
the ground swells with water until my body along with the wheat grass are fully consumed
And i become just another meal
don't be distracted by the man in the suit
he is but the pawn of lifes dirty work