A shawl and a fire
A fire and a cave
The night has many fingers
The night cannot be traced

The past is like a sign
A sign that never talks
A sign you think you’ve lived
But it’s just stone with a little chalk

Pale and out
Thinking how
I could be there
But here now
Cry it loud
Silent boy
All you’ve been
A lazy ploy

Seven in the ground
I put them there myself
Well, soil holds a mouth
Momma I’ll join them in my mound

And the day is likely round
So don’t reach for the Sun
Yeah, you might like getting hot
But you won’t like getting spun

Pale and out
Thinking how
I could be there
But here now
Cry it loud
Silent boy
All you’ve been
A lazy ploy

Give it up
Piling high
Crying crowds
With weathered eyes
Cut them down
You see them there
And you’re a scythe with little care