Devils Tower Waltz

It’s more than a memory the old kitchen table

Where we poured out our hearts and our souls

In a face that becomes you a place you can come to

When the world is spinning out of control

And the stories refine us the stories define us

And they teach us to let ourselves go

We can try to deny it we can say I don’t buy it

But it’s the sweetest psychiatry I know

Those old war stories those wolf at the door stories

You’ve got your stories to tell

And I know the heartache you can make use of

You won’t let it poison your well

But somewhere in back of the dreams you gave up on

Is the sound of a cracked old church bell

And I’ll be the singer selling those secrets you haven’t the heart to tell

Now many’s the highway we have set off on they go out like spokes on a wheel

Then we re-enter return to the center and all that we know that is real

And the stories remind us the stories define us

Beneath all the weakness we can reveal

Love’s still the answer now's still the question your heart still yearns to reveal

Those old love stories those touched from above stories

You’ve got your stories so well

And I know the mystery runs through your history

And echoes in the old wishing well and somewhere in back of

The dreams you took up with is a silence of a season in Hell

I’ll be the singer selling those secrets you haven’t the heart to tell