Wind On Tin

Southbound 90, past the locked up luxury store Tourists take photographs You're not a tourist here no more They're taxing the adobe now That the money moved into town Chasing a legend But one less legend is raking the grounds Helpless, helpless, helpless We all sang along There is a braid that binds us And his thread ain't gone Heard a sound so heavenly Were the angels singin just for us? Or is that what the wind Out here does on tin? I heard god I heard god I heard god I heard god Nothin'll get you like Seein a cowboy cry Nothin'll get you like Seein a cowboy cry I heard god I heard god I heard god I heard god