|
Lend me your walking stick |
|
And I lean on it |
|
And I walk on out through the snow bound yard |
|
Past the neighbours on the lawn |
|
Drinking last year out |
|
I leave this town, cut the year off clear |
|
Cauterized by leaving |
|
Sick and tired of living last year |
|
Roll out the tarmac and baptize the air craft |
|
Escaping loss and push me off |
|
The cold can bleach us out |
|
And freeze our doubt |
|
And all that you knew becomes muffled and mute |
|
But I'm done with it |
|
All this standing stiff |
|
When I move my mouth only snow comes out |
|
Euthanized by whiteness |
|
But I'll arise despite this last year |
|
So roll out the tarmac and baptize the aircraft |
|
Escaping loss and push me off |
|
Should old acquaintance be forgot |
|
And never brought to mind |
|
Should acquaintance be forgot |
|
And auld lang syne |
|
For auld lang syne, my dear |
|
For auld lang syne |
|
We'll take a cup of kindness yet |
|
For auld lang syne |
|
For auld lang syne, my dear |
|
For auld lang syne |
|
We'll take a cup of kindness yet |
|
For auld lang syne |
|
x2 |
