White On The Ground (Live From The Living Room)

Well I haven't seen snow in a couple of years
It's still dry in the desert this time of year
There's cracks in the ground for the poor man's tears
There's brown in the bushes for the raven and deer
There's a hollow hope sounding from the hole in the ground
It's the squeak of the wheel, it's the hush of the town
There's a fire for the morning though there's no one around
To be felt by the flicker of the flame on the ground
Saddle up son
We'll be riding at dawn
That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow
We ride through the willow, till the grass on the mound
Has a thick thick blanket
Of white on the ground
The wind whistles meaner things than I'll ever say
The cold to a stranger is a hoof to the clay
Never I remember such greed in an eye
The judge is a joker and he lives in the sky
Saddle up son
We'll be riding at dawn
That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow
We ride through the willow, till the grass on the mound
Has a thick thick blanket
Of white on the ground
Well I haven't been home in a couple of years
The snow is a ransom for my younger years
Hell isn't burning it's the chill of the night
And it's all frozen over and it's covered in white
Saddle up son
We'll be riding at dawn
That Santa Fe sun will be setting tomorrow
We ride through the willow, to the grass on the mound
And may God take the memory
Of white on the ground