| Now that you’ve gotten to the autumn of
|
| Your years and you feel your best yet
|
| And you found the tooky feather and you hung it like an amulet
|
| So happy that you got to the bottom of
|
| The fears that were fettering you
|
| And you found a round stone and you’re wearing it around like a jewel
|
| Doors creaking loud swinging wide open
|
| And you found yourself, Man, and that’s something
|
| Now that you wandered to the clearing in
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| The woods where the weeds sway in the wind
|
| And you found a dead deer and you made it into moccasins
|
| Overjoyed that you’ve gotten to the flat spot
|
| In the field and you’re starting to feel
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| That it’s harkening, to, something — heart-en-ing
|
| Doors creaking loud swinging wide open
|
| And you found yourself, Man, and that’s something
|
| And the doors creaking loud swinging wide open
|
| And you found yourself, Man, and that’s something — ahhh
|
| So happy that you’ve gotten to the bottom of it
|
| The fears that were fettering you
|
| And you found a round stone and you’re wearing it around like a jewel |