THE PLAYERS
THE SONGS
THE SHOP
CONTACT
Momma used to say I was lucky
But that I held you with contempt
It’s not a farce in how I loved you
Don’t dreams feel better in the end?
It’s back in that space
Where we built our own place
Where we ran our own race
And couldn’t win
Far at the top of the pueblo
One tree flops in the wind
Dead Chrysler shines at the bottom
Love’s long fall to an end
It’s back in that space
Where we built our own place
Where we ran our own race
And couldn’t win
It’s back in that space
Where we built our own place
Where we ran our own race
And couldn’t win
© 2025 Chris Szwedo All Rights Reserved.
BMI Registered.
This one has an autobiographical element to it. A short-lived romance died on a vacation that never should have happened. She was beautiful and a total mystery, and so was New Mexico. All I remember is looking down from the Acoma Sky City Pueblo and seeing a dead Chyrsler junked at the base of a sandstone cliff. From that moment on, it all slipped away.
ⓒ Chris Szwedo
