Circle of Killers
written 1974, ©1975 Andrew Calhoun, recorded on Staring at the Sun.
I scratched your face on purpose,
To see what I would find;
I thought I would fall forward,
But then I fell behind.
The boys have gone out fishing,
The men have gone to war;
A crazy priest in a rattlesnake hood
Led three silly monks ashore.
You think I speak to you,
But you're hearing a stranger;
I'm as bored as a clock, I'm a sleeper in shock,
I know when I'm in danger.
That man must have been crazy,
He didn't want to hear the word;
I saw him throw a javelin
Into the tongue of the Lord.
I have fought in many theatres,
This must be another;
I'd step in the middle of a circle of killers
To stand beside my father.
And now I'm trying hard
To remember what's been said;
Confusion like a butterfly
Hangs heavy in my head.
If I don't get back out,
It means I forgot why I came;
If you look, you'll find me in a lonesome cave,
Hanging from my name.
Hanging from my name.