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