Leave a little somethingnby the door of each places you're leavingnyour back will be much lighternon the road on the roadnpeople here are kindnyou'll soon find there's not much you'll be needingnthe farmers don't mind if you reap some of what they sowednn4score lightnings hit the sky at night and I think of younthe effect was blinding, frighteningnfor a while I could see the bones and everythingnlike I had x-ray view,nmmm, mmm, mmmnnleave a little somethingnin the bowl for each mouth that you're feedingnyou'll find that the actions last a fortnight or morensock away a songnin the mouthnof each lover you're kissingnyou'll hear it ring out from the opposite shorenand it will comfort you in your travelsnnwe all need comfort in our travelsncomfort me in my travelsnwe all need comfort in our travelsnn4score lightnings hit the skynthat's 80 if you multiply it that's more than a fewni suspect now the rain's washing down my face and necknit's a sign from younbeckoning me home from my travels ohnbeckoning me home from my travels ohnbecause you're the school through which it all unravelsnthe big oak block which the judges bang their gavelsnshould i should incleave aside the mountainsnkeeping score of the valleys i'm carvingnrocks and water kicked upnfor the times when i'm thirsty and starving