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The Missing Season
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A Difficult Question To The Weary Traveler
After this morning moon dubbed me knight And all my roads are roamed out On yonder lies my deepest fright: Will I still be wanting a bed for the night ?
In the wake of the deepest sleep man ever took When the truth comes a-rushing like a speeding train If the sky ever decides to drop the stars So they're close enough for us to look right into them Oh maybe then could I rest
That's how it is before and after Those goddamn boots are made for walking No cups of tea, no fireplace Your price for intactness is incompleteness
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