My time bein borne
On the winds of sorrow ride the waves
Far above these forms which haunt me

Child I am bound for the gentle valley
I will raise for you sweet acres of golden corn
To bear your hunger less painfully

Child beware of the tides of reason
They'll use your love of livin as the means
To drive you from the seasons

Child take heed and stay with all good souls a'friended
Ain't a thing I don't understand
But the time for that has ended