Keep One Match Dry
Dust on the canteen,
red thread on my sleeve You
wrote from the orchard,
said "Come home if you leave"
The truck took the mountain road,
coughing through stone
I counted the ridges and called
them my own
At dusk by the wadi,
we shared one tin cup A
radio stuttered,
then the signal gave up
Your photograph traveled from pocket to
hand
A small patch of apricot,
green as the land
Hold fast, my brother,
the night will turn
Keep one match dry for the
bridge we burn
If the wind asks our names,
let it carry them far
We are more than the dust,
more than somebody's war
The captain spoke softly beneath the
iron sky No medals were promised,
no reason why
We moved through the pass where
the cold rivers ran
And every young shadow looked just
like a man
When I return,
don't ask what I saw
Bring out the bread and leave
open the door I'll sit by
the window, let silence explain Why
a boy can grow older and
still stay the same
Hold fast, my brother,
the night will turn
Keep one match dry for the
bridge we burn
If the wind asks our names,
let it carry them far
We are more than the dust,
more than somebody's war
Your letter is folded beneath my
guitar
The road keeps on turning,
but home is not far