Circle of Killers 

written 1974, ©1975 Andrew Calhoun, recorded on Staring at the Sun.

I scratched your face on purpose, 
To see what I would find; 
I thought I would fall forward, 
But then I fell behind. 

The boys have gone out fishing, 
The men have gone to war; 
A crazy priest in a rattlesnake hood 
Led three silly monks ashore. 

You think I speak to you, 
But you're hearing a stranger; 
I'm as bored as a clock, I'm a sleeper in shock, 
I know when I'm in danger. 

That man must have been crazy, 
He didn't want to hear the word; 
I saw him throw a javelin 
Into the tongue of the Lord. 

I have fought in many theatres, 
This must be another; 
I'd step in the middle of a circle of killers 
To stand beside my father. 

And now I'm trying hard 
To remember what's been said; 
Confusion like a butterfly 
Hangs heavy in my head. 

If I don't get back out, 
It means I forgot why I came; 
If you look, you'll find me in a lonesome cave, 
Hanging from my name. 
Hanging from my name.