These Ghosts
Gettysburg National Battlefield
How many stories must we write in blood?
How many temples must we build with bones?
Who says hey brother let’s kill one another?
How many bodies fit in a grave with no stone?

It’s so stupid
It’s such a shame
War is always the same

We can build a monument, but the wounds won’t heal
We can dedicate a battlefield and memorize the names
What if these ghosts are trying to tell us something?
But we’re watching from the sidelines as the generals play their games

It’s so stupid
It’s such a shame
War is always the same

And one more thing:
You can call it your heritage; you just want to be free
But your lost cause states’ rights dog whistle just sounds like hate to me

And that’s so stupid
It’s such a shame
War is always the same

© 2019 Handshake Deal Music Publishing
Words and Music by Tad Armstrong

The Color of Our Blood

These Ghosts

Wilderness
Gates of the Arctic National Park
In the wilderness
I found myself alone
In the wilderness
I found myself

Does he know what we’ve done?
The yellow-billed loon alone in the sun
Do they know what will become?
The pack of white wolves there on the run
Do they know
We need more?

In the wilderness
I found myself alone
In the wilderness
I found myself

Do you know why I run?
The secret shame, the favorite son
Do you know what I’ve begun?
The pain I have caused, the damage I’ve done
I need more
Yes I need more

© 2019 Handshake Deal Music Publishing
Words and music by Tad Armstrong