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Following desire in your eyes
You're mine, you're mine all mine
Following the signs in your mind
You're mine, you're mine, all mine
Bring me the head of the preacher
Man in the sickening daze
O, the rotting sun washes down
The moonshine boys, the vultures drool
They pluck the gold dust from his eyes
And pick his bones until they're clean
The book of sorrows, the American dreams
Bring me the head of the preacher man
On the blazing trail
Heaven holds lone star promise El Dorado
The insane theater, once more we rise
To drain the last of liquid sleep
The gift of chance
Eating the worm as the vapor drops and dances
And everything stops and dances
Bring me the head of the preacher man
We tumble down these lonely days
You're mine, you're mine all mine
Following the signs in your mind
You're mine, you're mine, all mine
Bring me the head of the preacher
Man in the sickening daze
O, the rotting sun washes down
The moonshine boys, the vultures drool
They pluck the gold dust from his eyes
And pick his bones until they're clean
The book of sorrows, the American dreams
Bring me the head of the preacher man
On the blazing trail
Heaven holds lone star promise El Dorado
The insane theater, once more we rise
To drain the last of liquid sleep
The gift of chance
Eating the worm as the vapor drops and dances
And everything stops and dances
Bring me the head of the preacher man
We tumble down these lonely days
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I think Susan J. Dallion was having herself some fatally feministic fun adopting the persona of Herodias
[or perhaps her dancing daughter] transposed to an archetypally Western context (check the reference from Bayoustorm, also Matthew 14)and playing on associations of frontier violence, gold fever, the American Dream and frontier ghost towns.
This song is a grim one - but I love the Semitic whirling dervish sounds in the chorus. A nice incongruity to the Cowboy imagery.
It might just be describing a very bad Tequila hangover in the Texas plains.
Once however, I had the awful idea that this entire world, the totality of its horror and confusion, was only a fantasm of thought, a nightmare happening in the severed head of John the Baptist, buried in a desert somewhere.
That's what listening to this stuff during your formative years will do for you!