Pile Of Stones Lyrics - Bill Miller

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 dance, 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 

Boxer's fist, junkie's 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 

As long as the grasses grow 

And the four winds blow 

I feel your prayers from home 

In this pile of stones 

In this pile of stones 

In this pile of stones