Calexico quattro (feast of wire) love the run but not the race all alone in a silent way world drifts in and the world?s a stranger in a light, eclipsed and alienated in a time, occupied and invaded can?t tell what?s right, better hit the ground running in the hills where the tall weed grows hands are tied and won?t let go can?t escape this place without leaving the world behind in a light, ashamed and humiliated in a time, sacrificed for the sake of trade the soul is bent, feels the weight of truth falling through left behind, no choice but to run to the mountains where no poppies grow, you have to hit the ground running in a light, paralyzed and spirits fading out of time, must decide to fall or run into the eye, of the storm no sign or omen make it right, or fall to the other side where fields are burning from the day you?re born you?ll always hit the ground running