I'm going away to leave you, love. I'm going away for a while. But I'll return to you sometime. If I go ten thousand miles. . The storms are on the ocean.
The change could happen anyday. So says the whippoorwill. She hangs around for the seeds I leave. Out on the windowsill. Be-free-you-fool, be-free-you-fool.
Señor, señor, do you know where we're headin'?. Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?. Seems like I been down this way before. Is there any truth in that, señor?.
Was in the spring one sunny day. My sweetheart left me, she went away. And now she's gone and I don't worry. Cause I'm sittin on top of the world. . That big old river so deep and wide.
Must've been in late September. When last I climbed Reunion Hill. I fell asleep on Indian Boulder. And dreamed a dream I will not tell. . I came home as the sun went down.
I adore thee Mother Mary. But would you change me back to a witch. And let me live in the arms of a sorry old elm. Give the gypsy moths a realm of their own.
New York has been buried in snow since last Saturday. The papers said the storm had passed over you. . Thank you for the play you wrote about Heloise.
Northbound 35. Through the iron hills. Under infidel skies. It's two hundred miles to drive. You won't be home. . I saw an elsebound train. On the overpass.
It's the middle of the night. Near the Indiana line. I'm pulling in a Christian station. The signal's crystal clear. But I cannot really hear. What he says about the Revelation.
Looking down on empty streets, all she can see. are the dreams all made solid. are the dreams all made real. . all of the buildings, all of those cars.
Dirt roads and dryland farming might be the death of me. But I can't leave this world behind. My debts are not like prisons where there's hope of getting free.
It s uncanny. It s something strange. It s something I have. Long tried to ignore. Behind the curtain. Behind the door. If I keep my eyes cast down. It just might go away.
Fifty six I sailed aboard. A ship called Byron One. She's carried trawler men on deck. And a harpoon whaling gun. . Oh you trawlermen, come on. Forget your snapper and your prawn.
Gray green - his baby s eyes are gray green. She closes them and sleep comes. To carry her away. . He s singing: noni, noni, noni. Even though she s long gone.
There s a two-lane county road in northern Jersey. Winding up a hill beside a lake. Just before the road winds to an end. Is Hazel s house. . Long white picket fence around the front yard.
Sandy, the fireworks are hailin' over Little Eden tonight. Forcin' a light into all those stony faces left stranded on this warm July. Down in town the circuit's full of switchblade lovers, so fast, so shiny, so sharp.
True my love, but cold the wind. That howls against the cabin door. Sweet the night, but cruel the day. That comes to take my love away. . The fire-light now flickering down.
The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting. The oranges are packed in their creosote dumps. They're flying 'em back to that Mexico border. To take all their money to wade back again.
Amor mio, me da verguenza. No haberte escrito antes. Aunque siempre queria. La verdad es que no podia. . Que decirte? Soy medio lento. Me llevo todos estos anos.
Unburdened of their passengers. The taxis have all scattered. The hawkers move their tables out. They ll be selling no more leather. The Oslo Queen is set to sail.