Follow
coyote sing along hour
so you run and you run to catch up to the sun but it's sinking
and racing around to come up behind you again
the sun is the same, in a relative way, but you're older
and shorter of breath
and one day closer to death
every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
the time is gone
the song is over
I thought I'd so much more to say
home
home again
I like to be here when I can
when I come home cold and tired
it's good to warm my bones besides the fire
far away, across the fields,
the tolling of the iron bells
calls the faithful to their knees
to hear the softly spoken magic spells
re: coyote sing along hour
I'm not frightened of dying. Any time will do, if you don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've got to go sometime.
(I always imagined the speaker being a hobbit.)