Did the wine make her dream of the far, distant spring
Or a bed full of hens or the ghost of a friend?
All the while that she wept she had a gun by her bed
& a letter he wrote from a dry, foundered boat
& the train track will take all the wounded ones home
& I'll be alone.
Fare thee well, Sarah Jones.
Now we lie on the floor while the radio war
Finds its way through the air of the dead market square
& the Beast, never seen, licks its red talons clean.
Sarah curses the cold,
"No more snow, no more snow,
No more snow."
--Iron & Wine, "Radio War"
Will you say to me when I'm gone,
"Your face has faded, but lingers on
Because light strikes a deal with each coming night."
--Iron & Wine, "Each Coming Night"