Lyrics

Faces are bending over me asking why they do not live here they do not know anything there is a black river beyond the buildings watching everything from one side it is moving while I touch the tree the black river says no my father says no my mother says no in the streets they say nothing they walk past one at a time in hats with their heads down it is wrong to answer them through the green fence the street cars go by singing to themselves I am iron the broom seller goes past in the sound of grass by the tree touching the tree I hear the tree I walk with the tree we talk without anything come late echoes of ferries chains whistles tires on the avenue wires humming among windows words flying out of rooms the stones of the wall are painted white to be better but at the foot of the tree in the fluttering light I have dug a cave for a lion a lion cave so that the cave will be there among the roots waiting when the lion comes to the tree