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These day of canvassing the ground |
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It's a careful step or two into town |
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Tracing one of every sign |
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Six million cracks don't lie |
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There's ice upon the veil this year |
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It's hard to keep one's frozen head clear |
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Read the color on my cheeks |
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Or dripping nose tv's |
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Gonna find out |
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There's a wave upon the Corney shore |
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That drowns the old fat lady's roar |
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There's a locket full of sand |
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And a tarot in my hand |
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Gonna find out |
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These days I look up now and then |
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The slope seems a familiar friend |
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When its lines have left my palm |
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In queerness and in calm |
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Gonna find out |
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Gonna find out |
