Gregory Alan Isakov
February
February comes along againnow we are rust coloured stones.And I traded all my thoughts infor an hour of sleep in the snow.And I dreamed up this old western skythat follows me all the days.And I dreamed up this dust ????My dancing feet alone.February we march with frozen hands and bones to the doorand stomp our fate in cafes, and houses and churches.Today I saw two blue flowers and thought of you.And oh, it made me move, my dancing shoes.My dancing shoes, my dance feet along..When will we ever fall? I don't know.No, I don't know. And when will they ever fall?I don't know.
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