I cracked my knuckles, and I said grace And gave thanks for being a hundred and still feeling amazed Out where the waves wrestle with the dirty brine This is a lonely place. This was a home of mine After the struggle, Id watch the sand settle Over the quiet reef. Its my oldest memory And I dont know whose land were on Is this an island that plots like a villain Or an old ghost friend we dont believe in? I dont know I curse the weapon we stub our toes on Its the land of make believe, cant you see, cant you see?
Now in the dirt where I put my feet, and in the trunk of my body Im only shy, here, when I want to be, my head between my cypress knees And in the top of the canopy of the trees I am climbing The morning sun here, you will see. Its my oldest memory And I dont know whose land were on Is this an island that plots like a villain Or an old ghost friend we dont believe in? Is this an island that plots like a villain Or an old ghost friend we dont believe in? I dont know