It’s time you start packing up
Pack your clothes and your guitar
On the bench, it’s harvest time
Hunched over the danglin’ keys
Got my hands in the ivory earth
I’m working the brass with my feet
Been living by you so long
Does that make it so wrong
That the world that I loved bears your name
It don’t have to be
Don’t go cryin’ to the sea
That my tears are floodin’ over the plain
Don’t think it’s all your fault
I don’t sew the soil with salt
It don’t take years to get over this sort of pain