From the recording One More Drop
Tamiko wrote this song after the Women's March on Washington in 2017.
by Tamiko Rothhorn (2017)
Tamiko Rothhorn | lead vocals, ukulele
Austin Kaufmann | vocals, electric guitar
Tim Patterson | bass
Dan Moreno | percussion
Lyrics
Holding tight to the last piece of time,
The one with the memory all wrapped up in twine.
And when it unravels, revealing a scar,
We learn that the memories are all that we really are.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
Help pick the pieces up off of the floor.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
The place is crowding, but there’s still room for more.
They’re homing in on a place that’s not for sale.
Meet me three quarters of the way on the trail.
At the margin of an invisible frame.
Seeking someplace where the land knows your name.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
Help pick the pieces up off of the floor.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
The place is crowding, but there’s still room for more.
We are the souls that have wandered from home.
We’re ones remembering a hand we once could hold.
When there’s nothing to carry or to give away.
All we taste is the light that’s snuck into this day.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
Help pick the pieces up off of the floor.
Widen the circle, open the doors.
The place is crowding, but there’s still room for more.