Quito

When I receive the blessing I've got coming

I'm going to raise a nice cold glass of water

And toast the living and the dead

Who've gone before me, and my head

Will throb like an old wound reopening

When I get off the bus down there, my children

They all are going to greet me at the station

Like gypsies they will dance around me and

The choral droning sounds their voices make will saturate the evening

When I get off the wheel I'm going to stop

And make amends to everyone I've wounded

And when I wave my magic wand

Those few who've slipped the surly bonds

Will rise like salmon at the spawning