Boy Bathing (The)
The Leaves
Mary, your leaves are all coldBut why do they take on such youth when you're oldOnce you were made up with Christmas lights and bellsBut you were hollow on the inside and no one could tellWhat good is your life if you're stuck in your rootsCan't feel any sun 'cause you're under a roofLet go of the leaves Mary and fingers are all boneThere will be photographs to remember your place on the lawnYou collect the leaves to scatter on your farmAnd grow cautious fruit on nervous apple treesShaking from their roots doesn't keep them warmFrost comes before the freezeThere is no place in the dirt for a sailor like meWho sees trees chained not rooted to the earthSo I pack my bags and wander to the docksTo pull out the hermit crabs and collect the bottle topsWhere the water is cleanI will see your face againI won't have to bailI've got a new white sailWhen I drift to the ocean floorSongtexteThey could say I fell into a spiral shellAnd you can say I want another CamelotIn the clean white cloth of a restaurantAnd then the telephone sounds like a microphoneA head of stoneThe blades of grass all around it grewGreen where the dirt movedNot a place to restI am cutting down on the grassAnd fighting with the emptinessBuried to fertilize the treesI don't to see you stabbing on the lawn tonightWith a garbage can of leaves and a flashlight
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