As I wind down the pines
it?s the lines on your face
playing on your face
Without thinking so much
as abandoning thought
I went through open country
over water meadows streams
lakes and wires and roosts in reeds
to a nest in the hole of
this dead
tree.
To play without stopping or pause
not for silence not for applause
not without thinking
and thinking?s abandoning thought
As I wind down the pines
it?s the lines on your face
playing on your face
it?s the lines on your face
playing on your face
Without thinking so much
as abandoning thought
I went through open country
over water meadows streams
lakes and wires and roosts in reeds
to a nest in the hole of
this dead
tree.
To play without stopping or pause
not for silence not for applause
not without thinking
and thinking?s abandoning thought
As I wind down the pines
it?s the lines on your face
playing on your face
