The lines of my earth, so brittle, unfertile, and ready to dienI need a drink, but the well has run drynAnd we in the habit of saying the same things all over againnFor the money we shall makennThis is the last song that I writen'Til you tell me otherwisenAnd it's because I just don't feel itnThis is the las song that I writen'Til you tell me other wisenAnd it's because I just don't feel it anymorennIt should be our timenThis fertile youth's black soil is ready for rainnThe harvest is high, but the well has gone drynAnd they in the habit of saying the same things all over againnAbout the money we shall makennThis is the last song that I writen'Til you tell me otherwisenAnd it's because I just don't feel itnThis is the last song that I writen'Til you tell me otherwisenAnd it's because I just don't feel it anymore