Next Year

Oh, Father Time Grow me, change me Age and shed the infant skin that was mine Did you hear the wind Howling, growling? She knows something She is older than I Progress is slow on this heart that I grow I'll love a lot next year Beat to the drum Constant motion, vessels pulsing Every second we die Hands to the sun Burning, breathing, glowing, healing Sustenance of the sky Wholemeal and coal are better for the soul But I believe in blood and lust Oh, Father Time Rock me gently, I'm not ready Can't we stay for a while? And listen in to the wind Melody of melancholy She's a lullaby But send me to sleep and my mother She will weep Alma Mater I've not met Here's to the womb and the human catacomb I am not a child quite yet No, I am not a child quite yet