Testo 1873 (Buffalo Diary) Edie Brickell The New Bohemians
Laughing from the railroad tracks they shot my brothers in the back.
1873. No more thunder on the ground.
Birds were flying round and round.
Though the dust we kicked up no longer could be seen.
And 1873 was a very bad year for me.
1873 was a very bad year for me.
We cradled their babies.
Made up their houses.
Covered their feet.
They took what they needed.
Never took us for granted.
But the were defeated when people shot at me.
In 1873.
Laid out in the broken sun.
Rain beat on us like a drum.
The rhythm of that emptiness which shot my spirit free.
In 1873.
1873 was a very bad year for me.