Widespread Panic
Miscellaneous
Pilgrims

Brian Whitman
Black cat crossed our path
On little fog feet
There's crows riding beside my window
We left superstition on the roadside
A few cities ago
They spent our souls, maybe
But they didn't take our smiles
We listen, we shake, the radio
There's a sweet corn princess smiling
To the words on the glass
Remember we stopped for tamales last time?
But now the lights from the town
Are fading with radio
There's another song playing
And we can hear it
In the wind outside
We listen, we shake to the radio
We listen, to the radio
Little black kitty crossed our path
Wearing little fog feet
And the crows they're just drifters
Through my window
Late night cities lights are growing sharper
And there's another song
I see pouring from the look
In your eyes
We listen, we shake to the radio
We listen, we shake, to the radio, radio