Farmers Feet from Ferals Welcome by Sean Keel

She's an arm’s length off 

Still  seems  far  

Easter Island, where the  faces are 

Stone faces waiting for their day 


Colors bend seen through wine

blue lichen on the Douglas pines

We're waiting for the moon, I'm thinking bout her hair

a soft grey glow where sunset should be

life's less moment than in between

 it separates before you feel it tear

 Before you feel it tear



chorus:

I’m not drunk, not done in. I’m just off balance . 

the world the world the world

Is spinning away



easter island  no stone at all

Those statues came from a thousand miles off

log boats stone faces float  above the waves

 dark pine wall holds back time

I’m half warm her back gains mine

Red orange fire.  red orange flame



how much  of what's left is me?

My home ground’s gone, my farmers feet

worn down eyes, so much seems the same 

branches bend, they can’t hold the wind 

don't know what's done  or what's just changing

Could she be real? There's just no way 

• Folk
• austin
• indie fok
• lyrical
• roots
• Austin