Make Hay

So long

So long

So long

So long

So long

My old friend died that way

The accumulation of time and the passing of days

Though she dug in her heels

Drug her wheels in the clay

She dotted her eyes

Crossed the teasels in her leaning dray

Where buzzards make circles

(And tillers make hay)

A dozen in kettle, comittee & wake

Where wind made the dust

And sin made the snake

And mama made us

But what did I make?

And how was I to know

Down in our old goldmine

Where you were the king of the radio

And I was the keeper of hi-fi

And I was the queen of the rodeo

(And everybody'd know)

And you were the keeper of the lions

And we were gored, and abased

And adored, and erased

All before our time?

It was before our time

So how was I to know?

How was I to know

While tune hums

And the hand strikes the gong

And all of us plough our row

And the notes run

Out of measure and out of time and landing wrong?

The day is long, but not so long

My old friend died alone

Save for the friends and family she had known

Surrounding her bed

None of whom in that room

Could with certainty have said

I've dotted my eyes

Crossed the teasels in my leaning sled

Where buzzards make circles and tillers make hay

In windrow and bale

With tedder and rake

Where adam made ribs

And cattle make steak

(And the rattling nib writes

What did I make?)

And how was I to know

Seeing my seconds pass in a line

If there was a way to reckon love

Except as a symptom of time?

And honey, it stretched out below us

Humming every note

From the lowest to the highest

But even at the highest we were bored, and amazed

In accord, in a daze

All before our time

It was before our time

So how was I to know?

How was I to know

How was I to know

How was I to know

While the day slows

And the sun stares, stalling

Into the dimming barrel of night

Where the stars are falling?

I've got no say

But still

I'm calling for my old friend

We sow and we reap, again