Alternative country, Slow tempo, relaxed, Americana, Western, roots, organic, vintage, nostalgic, Male vocals, acoustic guitar, bass, drums, lap steel guitar, banjo, piano
I've put my weight against the weather, I laid my hands upon the wheel. But they're only holy harlots, so I try not to feel the winds blow, the winds blow. And the weeds turn to the city, and my mind turns back and sees you climbing into my bed with the dirt brushed off your feet. Winds do howl, winds do howl. Ooh, ooh. And if the heart's a lonely hunter, then the eyes are lying thieves that keep me from your fingers, climbing up my sleeves. Winds do howl, winds do howl. And your naked shoulders tell me that I'm awfully close to sin. Praise the good Lord that your hover doesn't know where you have been. Winds do howl, winds do howl. Ooh, ooh. And there were roots down in the river, back when I was just a boy. And there was something pure within me that just ain't pure no more. Winds have howled, red winds have howled. Ooh, ooh.
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