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Buffalo Gals - Live, Bremen, 1977

de John Hartford

It's hard to think this eve of parting
Turns to sand of summer gone
When both our minds are warped with parting
Break the thought of nights alone

Maybe I should turn in silence
Tell myself I didn't care
Curse the thought of your existence
Loving every flaxon hair

Flesh cries out, don't move don't leave me
Conscience runs till out of breath
Sunrise pregnant with your leaving
Creeping in like certain death

The pattern of the bird of love
That's wheelin' on its dizzy way
Tears me down to basic sorrow
Useless for another day

It's hard to think this eve of parting
Turns to sand of summer gone
When both our minds are warped with parting
Break the thought of nights alone

Flesh cries out, don't move don't leave me
Conscience runs till out of breath
Sunrise pregnant with your leaving
Creeping in like certain death

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