|
We've left our homes, |
|
for the dusty road, |
|
though it weighed us down, |
|
to go. |
|
Now, see, we're burning in the sun, |
|
fire in our bellies. |
|
Today ate us up, |
|
and never chewed. |
|
Though we still roll along this hill. |
|
The change that we don't see, |
|
is happening to me |
|
though you are watching. |
|
It is cold, it is dark, |
|
in the big black heart, |
|
of the wood, of the hill, |
|
of the home. |
|
We are out of our depth |
|
and our width and breadth. |
|
We are out of the pan, |
|
in the fire. |
|
It is green, it is damp, |
|
by the burning lamp, |
|
of the woods, of the hills, |
|
of the home. |
|
Oh, how I long, for the things I have, |
|
for the burden I don't own. |
|
Do I know, how to please your head |
|
pour the contents back, when you're spilling from my bed. |
|
the day is worn, and the spark won't come |
|
New sore in my chest. |
|
It is cold, it is dark, |
|
in the big black heart, |
|
of the wood, of the hill, |
|
of the home. |
|
We are out of our depth |
|
and our width and breadth. |
|
We are out of the pan, |
|
in the fire. |
|
Oh you, the husband of the wife, |
|
I know you are watching. |
|
Oh you, the husband of the wife, |
|
I know you are watching. |
