| Blue clouds twisted into a tunnel
|
| Somewhere far off the thunder roaring
|
| And the fortune teller has fixed her sleepy eyes on my child
|
| Sometimes I climb high up a tree
|
| To let the wind blow in my face
|
| Sometimes I leave my cares lying in piles
|
| Somewhat disturbing is the sound of birds singing
|
| When you know you don’t deserve it You are not here today
|
| And I feel just like an empty eggshell, and
|
| My yoke is heavy
|
| My yoke is heavy
|
| My voice is a little horse
|
| Galloping lost through the woods
|
| Calling your name
|
| It’s new to me But just the same
|
| The earth is an old canvas
|
| Painted over many times
|
| The poet rambles
|
| The world it scrambles
|
| But who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men
|
| Your shadow knows
|
| It’s right behind you all the way
|
| Your shadow knows where you’ve been
|
| Somewhat disturbing is the sound of birds singing
|
| When you know you don’t deserve it You are not here today
|
| And I feel just like an empty eggshell, and
|
| My yoke is heavy
|
| My yoke is heavy
|
| Sacred is the smile
|
| That opened up my mind
|
| That may at last please save me And rid my cold, cold heart
|
| Of the dark deep gloom
|
| That took up so much room
|
| In my many spacious memories
|
| And many are the times
|
| I thought and rethought
|
| The thoughts you got me thinking
|
| Though the sun shines bright upon me now
|
| And I am young and kicking
|
| My yoke is heavy
|
| My yoke is heavy |