“I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution, thousands or even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, making young girls happy and old girls happier, all of ’em Zen Lunatics who go about writing poems that happen to appear in their heads for no reason and also by being kind and also by strange unexpected acts keep giving visions of eternal freedom to everybody and to all living creatures.”
I was born in the state where my mother was raised
With the children of soldiers, the children of slaves
And it’s too much to take, the mind how it breaks
The lessons, the stories, the shame, and the glories, and all.
They linger ’round
Foxes and hounds
Our souls are bound
To older ground.
Fell in love with a girl who’s found love before
In the hands and the hearts of the people she wore
She’s all that I see, but there’s things in between
The fractures and fissures of all of the pictures we leave.
They linger ’round
Foxes and hounds
They’re with me now
Can’t lay them down.
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded by ghosts.
So we keep them at home, the secrets and bones
The voices we hear so we’re never alone
They tease and they taunt, comfort and haunt
My mother and father and so many I’ll never know.
They linger ’round
Foxes and hounds
My hands are bound.
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded
And I feel it all around, I’m surrounded by ghosts.
