| The day I turned my back on all you people
|
| I felt an itching in my thumbs
|
| The salt air like a broadcast from the distant, dark beyond
|
| When my transformation comes
|
| I went down to the warm, warm water
|
| Saw a pelican fly past
|
| Waved once at the highway and then left all that behind me
|
| I went wading through the grass
|
| And no one was gonna come and get me
|
| There wasn’t anybody gonna know
|
| Even though I leave a trail of burnt things in my wake
|
| Every single place I go
|
| And it was cool, and it was quiet
|
| In the humid marsh down there
|
| I let my head sink down beneath the brackish water
|
| Felt it gumming up my hair
|
| The sun was sinking into the Atlantic
|
| The last time that I turned my back on you
|
| I tried to summon up a little prayer as I went under
|
| It was the best that I could do
|
| And I said
|
| «Let them all fare better than your servant»
|
| The reeds all pricking at my skin
|
| «Here's hoping they have better luck than I had down here with you»
|
| All that water rushing in |