Tundra SongtextShort Arctic desert day
and someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Look around every which way
but I can't see just where the footprints go.
Is it a casual disappearence?
Plucked from the middle atmosphere
like straw wind-blown.
No speck on the horizon
no simple message scrawled
upon the snow
someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Hungry buzzard flier.
circling round and round
rattling death's tambourine.
Have to run it down the cold wire
late insertion in tomorrow's lost and found.
Should I spread out searching?
But I'm a little thin upon the ground.
So I raise my lips to coax
the lst drop of brandy from the bottle.
rest my feet and contemplate
the mystery that's haunting
this Sibirian space.
Show-shoes they bind me down
I'm just one mor parasite of the surface layer.
I begin to get the feeling
I've been on this stage before
and I'm the only player.
One more Artic desert day
another set of shoes out in the tundra snow.
I make my fade to white-out
and you can't see me where my footprint go.
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Writer(s): Ian Scott Anderson, Peter John Vettese Copyright: The Ian Anderson Group Of Companies Ltd. Lyrics powered by www.musiXmatch.com