Medicine

The day will come

At a redrawing of the boundaries

When Pilsudski

Will rear his head in Iberia

'Cause he's been moving west

For centuries

Creeping

Every time that Mazzini turns

In his grave

And I have watched his drift with sallow skin

And with longing

For the western coasts where he would lay his head

And get well

For he has caught a disease

That makes him bleed when breathing

They sent him south for the cure

To the shores of the Starnberger see

So the day will come

When I pack my things

And move west

Into the setting sun

Because my strength has failed

I am fading

So will you tend my sheep

And will you till my fields

Until I get back

Because I will be coming home

My health restored

And if Josef can lose

Himself in the dark

Of the continent

Then surely

There must be a way

That I can cough up the last

Of the blood in my lungs

And lose myself

Nineteenth Century science

Cannot soother my chest

Staggering through Europe

I keep on heading west

My medicine

Is a setting sun

My medicine

My medicine

Is a setting sun

My medicine

Is a setting sun

My medicine

My medicine

Is a setting sun

My medicine

My medicine

Is a setting sun

My medicine

My medicine

Is a setting sun