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 Starnbergersee 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