|
when you fall on the rocks |
|
at a bend in the river |
|
with the blood from your nose |
|
running hard on your fingers |
|
and for the rest of your life |
|
the electric charge |
|
of a change in the weather |
|
you were touching my arm |
|
you were holding a feather |
|
and then I opened my eyes |
|
and the world goes racing, suddenly changed |
|
as the shock of the axe, it leaves you trembling |
|
like a busting shell in the small of your back |
|
or a drop that's hard on the cast of your little lie |
|
and an animal life will serve you away |
|
and you were back on the road |
|
through the worst of the winter |
|
through the valley of light |
|
passing through like an arrow |
|
oh, if your vision collapsed |
|
and a storm from the river |
|
like a pull in the |
|
clutching tight in your fingers |
|
but on the slope at the edge |
|
when you recover your life |
|
you can stand on the back of a shuddering beam |
|
with a pistol firing shots into the air |
|
you could run in the blood of the sun's hard rays |
|
you could drive the mountains down into the bay |
|
or go back to the east where it's all so civilized |
|
where I was born to the life |
|
but I am leaving the life |
|
I am leaving the life |
|
I am leaving the life |
|
I am leaving the life |
|
I am leaving the life |
|
I am leaving |
