Peter Gabriel “San Jacinto”

Thick cloud — steam ris­ing — hiss­ing stone on sweat lodge fire
Around me — buf­falo robe — sage in bun­dle — rub on skin
Out­side — cold air — stand, wait for ris­ing sun
Red paint — eagle feath­ers — coy­ote call­ing — it has begun
Some­thing mov­ing in — I taste it in my mouth and in my heart
It feels like dying — slow — let­ting go of life

Med­i­cine man lead me up through town — Indian ground — so far down
Cut up land — each house — a pool — kids wear­ing water wings — drink in cool
Fol­low dry river bed — watch scouts and guides make pow-wow signs
Past Geronimo’s disco — Sit’n’Bull steak­house — white men dream
A rat­tle in the old man’s sack say — look at moun­tain top — keep climb­ing up
Way above us the desert snow — white wind blow

I hold the line — the line of strength that pulls me through the fear
San Jac­into — I hold the line
San Jac­into — the poi­son bite and dark­ness take my sight — I hold the line
And the tears roll down my swollen cheek — think I’m los­ing it — get­ting weaker
I hold the line — I hold the line
San Jac­into — yel­low eagle flies down from the sun — from the sun
We will walk — on the land
We will breathe — of the air
We will drink — from the stream
We will live — hold the line
Hold the line — Hold the line
We will live — hold the line
Hold the line

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