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Vic Chesnutt
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Strange Language
Lyricist：James Victor Chesnutt
Up on the bluff, where I wish I was
Twisting up the pages of history
My cold feet dangling, my bony arms gesturing
To summon up a little chunk of that history
In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language
Up on the bluff, where the hardwoods jut
Out toward the gusts of history
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My crusty mind cracks, my restless heart tracks
The fractal lines of history
In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language
In the corridor the shadows are long
And it messes with my equilibrium
And there's strains of a strange language
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