The lost traditions of birds and trees
Their festivals and sainted feasts conclude
And all is hanging wonder in the woods
But in my town a melancholy mood
Everything seems once removed
Like a distant relative approaching
With news of dead cousins and aunts
One wants to crack a joke but can't
Remember one to save one's life
But it's just death again coming in glory
When the wheels of the truck come off
And the hulk of it sits rusting in the yard
Plastered like you with red and yellow leaves
And you know you're going nowhere at last
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