So your ancient poems delight In dimensions undefined Where at some ever future time Every wrong will finally be made right Well, count on me to still be ill at ease Count on me to still be ill at ease Lest we hear it from the rocks and the trees Why do you still look for me When you know where I'll be? With all creation to rebuild And every promise unfulfilled You wants points for right belief And the worn-out knees in your blue jeans Well, count on me to still be ill at ease Count on me to still be ill at ease Lest we hear it from the rocks and the trees Why do you still look for me When you know where I'll always be?