| When you fell on the rocks
|
| At a bend in the river
|
| With the blood from your nose
|
| Running hot on your fingers
|
| And through the rest of your life
|
| The electric charge
|
| Of a change in the weather
|
| You are touching my arm
|
| You are holding a feather
|
| And then I open my eyes
|
| And the world goes racing
|
| Suddenly changed
|
| As the shock of the exit leaves you trembling
|
| Like a bursting shell
|
| In the small of your back
|
| Or a jaw bites hard
|
| On a cast of your little line
|
| And an animal life pulls, surging, away
|
| And you are back on the road
|
| Through the worst of the winter
|
| Through the valley of light
|
| Passing through like an arrow
|
| With your vision collapsed
|
| And a stone from the river
|
| Like a holy medallion
|
| Clutching tight in your fingers
|
| But on the slope, at the edge
|
| Where you recover your life
|
| You could stand on the back of a shuddering beam
|
| With a pistol, firing shots into the air
|
| You could run in the blood of the sun’s hard rays
|
| You could drive the mountains down into the bay
|
| Or go back to the East
|
| (Where it’s all so civilized)
|
| Where I was born to the life
|
| But I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving the life
|
| I am leaving |