Gone, Gone from The Alchemist by Low Tide

The wounded wolf came to my door again,
said, can I sleep here tonight
said, can I sleep here tonight?
Yes, but only sleeping
yes, but only sleeping.
But he began, and I lost my hands,
no,
but I remember where to go
and I’m gone, gone

In the woods, that sweet, black earth
sweet, dripping moss, sweet, dripping ferns
and musky Sassafras
the tender roots reaching back.

Wolf poisons the well
scrapes mean ditches, all the wrong places
salts the fields in the rainswell
all the wrong places, strips leaves from their branches.
But the Curlews call, oh, lovely birds
and I’m gone, gone

In the woods, that sweet, black earth
sweet, dripping moss, sweet, dripping ferns
and musky Sassafras
the tender roots reaching back.

Said he could sleep
said he could sleep
gone, gone
gone, gone
sweet, black earth
gone, gone
gone, gone
gone, gone
gone, gone

• Alternative
• Americana
• folk
• indie
• new york city
• queer
• New York