Текст Mat Kearney – Hawthorne

I’m chasing lions, and goblins and angels at night
With a barrel and a bottle by a grandfathers knife
There’s blood on my collar, I wish it was mine
With less friends before me and more left behind

If you run to the moon
You’re running alone
If you wait for the moment
It’s coming too slow
Preacher the prophet
I’ve never known

But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul
But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul

With oceans before me and oceans to grow
The price of this freedom has cost me my home
Stood on the mountains of mint fields of gold
I wish I wasn’t here standing alone

If you run to the moon
You’re running alone
If you wait for the moment
It’s coming too slow
Preacher the prophet
I’ve never known

But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul
But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul

I remember on Hawthorne the rain and the smoke
I wish that the last words weren’t the last we spoke
I was burning on fire from earlier years
The bitterness burns with regret in my tears

If you run to the moon
You’re running alone

Well living for bread ain’t worth living at all
Suffer the darkness and wait for the dawn
This letter I’m writing won’t find a home
Burning the thunder
And cold to the bone

Cause the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul
Cause the Jesus of prostitutes is calling me home