A Trial In Our Native Town

'A leather strip around your hand
The great landowner whom you kissed
The cries out from the battlefield
Tell me, where did you come from?

Coming right through to the end
You don't want to resent
The poor souls that brought you here
The landscape behind your fingerprints

You have walked between snakes in the plain
People everywhere greeted you in vain
Steal my heart, baby, just roll on
Just roll on from your native town

They've been haunting you and drinking
They've been so careful thinking
That you shouldn't be alone here
That you belong to them

There's the drummer, breathing the air
There's the man, who brought the chair
Where you should be seated
Within the doors of your home

You sit down in this painted chair
You're tired, they don't care
Oh, come out from your hidden place
They want to kiss you, want to be with you

The fields are heavy with dust
Remember the smell from your City lost
The chain around your naked foot
Tell me, what do you do now?

You better wait until past midnight
Tie your mind to me waiting outside the prison
With the leather strip from your hand
Wait, I'll come to hold you tight.'