The wind, so still, echoes through the trees.
Time is marching from the ground.
The shadows rise.
You know the dead's alive.
The lost is found,
The pigs are growling.
The hound dogs moan.
The fog bites through your skin.
And the stars’ last light
Is as black as the night
And your sin,
They'll be here soon.
There's not a thing you can do.
And when they take
What they need,
Will they take you,
Words and music by Jim Choukas-Bradley.
Jim Choukas-Bradley: vocals, harmonica;
Amanda Olsavsky: vocals;
Jesse Daumit: lead guitar;
Jesse Choukas-Bradley: acoustic guitar;
Jeff Reed: bass;
Mike Kuhl: drums.
Recorded at Bias Studios, Springfield, VA.
Engineered and mixed by JimRobeson.
This song was born with an air of mystery about it. I'm not sure where the images came from exactly. It's about the terror that white plantation owners in the pre-Civil War South felt after Nat Turner's slave rebellion in the early 1830's. I wrote it when I was a young man, discovering American history in college, after reading some diaries from those times.