To Scatter One's Own

Scatter me out on the prairie
 Western gales supine the gray
 Not that this matters
 It's not that it's worn
 Or threadbare and battered
 And the sun must rise
 And the sun must rise
 Custer sleeps with ball and scythe
 A feather on his right
 It's writ in James repent or die
 For Enoch chains his scribes
 Not that this matters
 It's not that it's worn
 Or threadbare and battered
 And the sun must rise on the valley
 And the foolish night will lead
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 Morning comes with death approaching
 Echoes pierce to flit thine eye
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 Sweet but placed, I'm gaunt with age
 Slayers mourn but God confides
 Not that this matters
 It's not that it's worn
 Or threadbare and tattered
 And the sun must rise
 Custer sleeps with bell and bride
 His brother by his side
 A pathway horse will fly and fly
 For a stage-lit night on fire
 ♪
 Morning comes with death approaching
 Echoes pierce to flit thine eye
 Not that this matters
 ♪
 Or not that it's worn