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1873 (Buffalo Diary)
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Edie Brickell & New Bohemians
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1
1873 was a very bad year for me.
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When all I feared just disappeared so suddenly.
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They got their tickets for the train.
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Raised their weapons and took aim.
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Laughing from the railroad tracks they shot my brothers in the back.
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1873. No more thunder on the ground.
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Birds were flying round and round.
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Though the dust we kicked up no longer could be seen.
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And 1873 was a very bad year for me.
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1873 was a very bad year for me.
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We cradled their babies.
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Made up their houses.
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Covered their feet.
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They took what they needed.
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Never took us for granted.
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But the were defeated when people shot at me.
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In 1873.
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Laid out in the broken sun.
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Rain beat on us like a drum.
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The rhythm of that emptiness which shot my spirit free.
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In 1873.
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1873 was a very bad year for me.
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