Joe Henry strung

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I keep wooden boxes like traps strung with wire
In the light of old tires, piled on the fire
Wearing their smoke like a flower in bloom
Cut like the thread in a pipe fitter's room
I dig in the dirt and yank at the root
Of the shadow's dark vein in a story gone mute
Till it sings with the blue of a hangman in time
And I give away what never was mine
I've set a snare for the prey on my tongue
The mean feral song still yet to be sung
The one with your name called out in the street
That with or without me will always will repeat
Like a coin in the mirrored jukebox machine
Can set a world spinning like cheap gasoline
Sending up sparks in the air, how they shine
And I give away what never was mine
I give away what never was mine
The god of all truth, of darkness and sleep
Plays like the arc of a lamp and for keeps
Dancing with fury, heat in both hands
And welds me to you in the place where I stand
In love with your doubt, deaf to my own
Awake to the hole in the heart of my bone
As I shake and sing, beating out time
And I give away what never was mine
I give away what never was mine

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