Once I could go for a walk and just trust
that my feet would take me where I wanted to go
And I didn’t have to think
That they might have their own bright ideas of where I should be going
Or not going.
But these days I wake up and never can be sure
If the feet at the end of the bed
Will be muddy and cracked
Or fresh as a lily
When I meant to walk them raw
What will I do with you?
What will I do without you?
Well we can’t go on
No we can’t leave this place
And we can’t turn left
And we can’t turn right
And we can’t go on
My love and I
What will I do with you?
What will I do without you?
What is this place we’ve come to?
And what is it we’ve left behind?
Now North, South, East, West
Are all dead to our scents
And the reaper whispers sweet and low
�Well, you never could have guessed
Never could have guessed
How long it took to get here
Or how far you’ve got left to go�
What will I do with you?
What will I do without you?
What will we do?
What can we do?
Northsoutheastwest
The Jane Austen Argument
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