Quito

When I receive the blessing I've got coming I'm going to raise a nice cold glass of water And toast the living and the dead Who've gone before me, and my head Will throb like an old wound reopening When I get off the bus down there, my children They all are going to greet me at the station Like gypsies they will dance around me and The choral droning sounds their voices make will saturate the evening When I get off the wheel I'm going to stop And make amends to everyone I've wounded And when I wave my magic wand Those few who've slipped the surly bonds Will rise like salmon at the spawning