Bob Tilton - Nashville lyrics

They called it some kind of miracle A body so long in the water That he should run his tongue over the skin And taste the salt upon it Finally the mariner spoke Of waves cut with the finest shark fins Of staining the diaries of the fishermen In whose nets he hauled aboard "with honest wrist and filthy mouth Describe what you see here in simple terms The fine detail coloured with clumsy brush strokes..." "i offer only three decades down Save for wrists still churning with her Fierce and urgent now Former glories are recorded here in tapestry Each and every stitch a reminder Of the heights which we will never aspire to climb Now conversations twist themselves in riddles And a final gesture becomes text mispelt"