Vagabond Song

Now I’m careful when I’m shaving,

when I hold the razor dark,

my hands are always shaking,

I’m afraid I’ll leave a mark,

now my face is so much thinner,

and my eyes are like a shark’s,

so I’m careful when I’m shaving,

the fire from the spark.

These days the river’s running dry,

the fountain’s full of tar,

like a church without a spire,

like a dog without a bark,

I poured oil onto the fire,

then I fanned it with my heart,

till I almost could admire,

the fire from the spark.

Sickness just below the surface,

sugar raging in the blood,

and I waited for forgiveness,

never knowing where I stood,

heard the Spanish guitars crying

while I’m lying in the mud,

and the cicadas were wailing;

it’s our questioning of Love.

I was happier before you,

now you’re gone I’m torn apart,

I was struggling with the reasons,

should have consulted the charts,

it was written in the night sky,

we defied those holy stars,

now it’s time to reignite,

the fire from the spark.

I was cracked and I was shattered

but I thought my lines were sharp,

I rearranged my phrases,

I inflamed my beating heart,

so it rattled and it pounded,

till the doctor said at last:

be careful to stay grounded -

you’re dying much too fast.

In the house upon the hillside,

where we whispered in the dark,

we were scared of waking up,

or of looking at the clock,

the time was never on our side,

tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock -

we knew that we would leave behind,

the fire from the spark.

Now the sun is on the hillside,

and you are far away -

I’m out here and my chest is bare,

the archer’s taking aim -

mosquitoes wheeling in the air,

distract me from my game -

felled and flayed, my flesh is mine,

I do not know my name.