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lyrics: J. Morse © 1985 Wisps of smoke rise, curling From the fields far down below Aerial spotters aren't enjoying the show All they work tirelessly to save Is going up in flames Flames of orange licking at the snow A flash of tan comes Bursting from the trees An antelope seeking the safety of the freeze And now she's running hard A burst of orange on her tail Carried further onward in the breeze Oh, please Let the wilderness survive Firestorm rages on Days have passed on by Frenetic creature activity Black clouds spiral to the sky And somewhere in a clearing A man named Moses Jones Sits before a burning bush and starts to cry Oh, why. . . should the forest die this way Tell me who, exactly's, going to pay And please. . . tell me what to say To the one who left in such a hurry that day With the embers still aglow He packed his things to go And as he took off for Idaho The flames began to grow And now all that remains Is a smoking pile of ashen dust It used to be our land before the fire's burning lust All consumed in its hunger And spat out into the cold night With the sky growing ever darker, tell me is it justice? And somewhere in a clearing Moses Jones succumbs and dies The embers of the burning bush Crackling over his sighs A sticker over rust Reading "Idaho or bust" Lit up in red and blue Guess they've caught up to you And the cries. . . of Mother Nature die away |