I was tired of being drunk.
My face cracked like a joke.
So I swung through herelike a brace of jackrabbits,with their necks all broke.
I stumbled at the door with my boot,and 
I knocked against the jamb.and 
I scrabbled at your chest, like a mute,with my fists of ham.trying to tell you that 
I amtelling you 
I can--I canlove you again;love you again.
I'm squinting towards the 
East.My faith makes me a dope.
But you can take my hand,in the darkness, darling,like a length of rope.
I shaped up overnight, you know,the day after she died.when 
I saw my heart,and 
I'll tell you, darling,it was open wide.what with telling you 
I amtelling you 
I can--I canlove you again;love you again.
It can have no bounds, you know.
It can have no end.
You can take my handin the darkness, darling,when you need a friend.
And it can change in shape or form,but never change in size.
Well the water, it ran deep, my darling,where it don't run wide.
The feather of a hawk was bound,bound around my neck;a poultice made of fig,the eager little vultures pecked.
And a verse 
I read in jestin 
Matthew, spoke to me;said 
There's a flame that moveslike a low-down pestand says, 
You will be freeonly, tell me that 
I cantell me that 
I can:I can love you again;love you again.