A book of verses underneath the bough
A jug of wine, a tenderness I know
Beside me singing in the wilderness
Oh, wilderness, the paradise I go
Sing for the glories of this world while some
Sigh for the barren wasteland to come
Just take the cash, and let the credit go
But heed the rumble of a distant drum!
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surrounded when I'm dead
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surround me when I'm dead
So get those old torn up stockings off the rack
A dumb excuse to get you off your ass
At the MOMA make fun of modern art
Where I made one I put down an empty glass
Hey, honey just fill up that cup to clear
Today of past regrets and future fears
And tomorrow, well tomorrow, I will be
Myself with yesterday's ten thousand years
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surrounded when I'm dead
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surround me when I'm dead
In tandem we participate in the task of art
"Harmonize the whole," a moving finger writes
On the frozen glass, that is your favorite part
A way to satiate herbivore appetites
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surrounded when I'm dead
Make up your mind
Lonely if alive
Or better yet
Surround me when I'm dead
A book of verses underneath the bough
A jug of wine, a tenderness I know
Beside me singing in the wilderness
Oh, wilderness, the paradise I go