Silicon Rodeo

My granddad rode the boundaries on a painted horse

No satellites to guide him,

just the river's course

Now I am staring at a screen of flickering blue

Trying to find a trail that I once knew

(ahhhh) And all these wires run through the clay

Chasing the quiet sky away

But they can't fence the wind on the high plateau And they

can't map the places that the wild hearts go

I'm a ghost in their machines,

a shadow on the grid

Living like the ancient outlaws did

They trade their lives for numbers

on a glowing wall

While the dust storms gather

and the pine trees fall

My hands are calloused,

and my boots are worn

In a world where nobody is ever truly born

But they can't fence the wind on the high plateau And they

can't map the places that the wild hearts go

I'm a ghost in their machines,

a shadow on the grid

Living like the ancient outlaws did

Lost in the static (yeah) But finding my way home