Hamilton's Bone

On a quiet road, where the fields roll on, there's a little

spark in Hamilton's bone. No old barn walls in the morning sun,

just memories dancing one by one. Dean Swift rolled in with a poet's grin,

left a few words flying on the wind, and they still shine bright

when the day comes on. Yeah, that's Hamilton's bone. And every step,

every story lives on. You can hear it in the breeze at dawn.

Oh, Hamilton's bone, you keep moving on from the quiet

nights to the breaking dawn. Oh, Hamilton's bone, you're steady and