The Ballad of Harry Frantz

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The Anchorites

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Greenfield seems so far away
From this God-forsaken land
Far from that old and feeble farm
And the man with the white gloved hands
The Moroccan sun is beating down
And shattering through my soul
The city’s eyes are open wide
And they just may swallow me whole
I wish you could’ve been a ghost
I wish I didn’t have to see
You hanging down like wind chimes
From daddy’s hollow tree
Your flowers are pinned up on my wall
But not your little boy in blue
Henry kept him locked away
The same place he kept you
Even now in these moonlit hours
With my calabash burning low
I see your epitaph in the stars
And in the haze it weeps and glows
I wish you could’ve been a ghost
I wish I didn’t have to see
You hanging down like wind chimes
From daddy’s hollow tree
I wish you could’ve been a ghost
I wish I didn’t have to see
You hanging down like wind chimes
From daddy’s hollow tree
From daddy’s hollow tree
From daddy’s hollow tree
I wonder if they’re scared
Do they think we pose a threat
Well even if we do
We’re not through with them yet
Well mother hear me now
And brother hold me tight
It’s clear against the dark
But I’m still shaking through the night

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