The wind is pushing the clouds along
Out of sight
A power is putting them away
A power that moves things neurotically
Like a widow with a rosary
And everything is aweing and tired of praise
And mountains don't need my accolades
And spring looks bad lately anyway
Like d**h warmed over
And the bantam is preening madly waiting for the light of day
And all I want to do is to make love to you
With a careless, careless mind
With a careless, careless mind
Who cares what's mine?
With a careless, careless mind
We call it spring though things are dying
Connected to the land like a severed hand
And I see our house on a hill on a clear blue morning
When I am out walking
My eyes are still forming the door I walk through
And I see, the true spring is in you
The true spring is in you
My wide worlds collide
And mind wide words collide
And seasons collide
Oh scoping
And all I want to do
All I want to do is to make love to you in the fertile dirt
In the fertile dirt
With a careless mind
With a careless, careless, careless mind