| Take my photograph my portrait
|
| Don’t hang it on a wall for me
|
| Give it up to my mother
|
| Or to my colony of bees
|
| On a ceremony Sunday
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| Sitting in cemetery trees
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| It is all vanity yet I know
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| There is a little light I still see
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| Oh I am arranged, oh I am arranging
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| Oh I am arranging you to be to be changed
|
| I am arranged, oh I am arranging
|
| Oh I am arranging you to be to be changed
|
| Touch my head upon the water
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| So in light it will now show
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| Lay my hand down on the altar
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| For inside a sickness grows
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| I am wasted on the waiting
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| Is it right that I would know?
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| Lay your hand down on me a term
|
| In the garden that you’ve sown
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| Oh I am arranged, oh I am arranging
|
| Oh I am arranging you to be to be changed
|
| I am arranged, oh I am arranging
|
| Oh I am arranging you to be to be changed
|
| To be changed
|
| Take me sparrow
|
| Don’t hang it on the wall for me
|
| I’m laid in narrow
|
| I’m waiting on my colony |