Garbage fires, worn out tires    Dull jackknives, broken lives    Starts and stops, at old pawn shops    Boys first fish, drunkards wish       Thoughts of war, behind a motel door    Strangers touch, on a broken crutch    Old man sing under an eagles wing    Cigarette spark, stray dog bark...    As long as the grasses grow    And the four winds blow    I feel your prayers from home    In this Pile of Stones       Old bike frames, the candles flame    High school dances, never had a chance    Fly off in a rage, like a bird in a cage    Baptized in the water, death of my father       Sun goes down, on this part of town    Boxers fist, junkies wrist    Deserted tracks, I ain't goin back    Buffalo bones, old grave stones       As long as the grasses grow,    And the four winds blow    I feel your prayers from home    In this Pile of Stones, stones, stones...