I think of a lot of a things walking home.
I say them aloud, to myself I am talking.
I talk to myself when we are alone.
Why-ee-i-ee-i is my bleeding heart beating?
Why-ee-i-ee-i am I feeling no pain?
Why-ee-i-ee-i do I cry when I say Good
Bye-ee-i-ee-i, When I'm calling your name?
I look to the left and the right when I'm crossing.
I look straight ahead when I'm crossing the road.
The baggage I carry, that load I am tossing.
I look back behind at the row that I've hoed.
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