The Last Thing on My Mind

It’s a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turning
In your hand, In your hand
As we walk, all my thoughts are a-tumblin'
'Round and 'round, 'round and 'round
Underneath our feet the subway’s rumblin'
Underground, underground
You’ve got reasons a plenty for goin
This I know, this I know
For the weeds have been steadily growin
Please don’t go, please don’t go
As I lie in my bed in the morning
Without you, without you
Each song in my breast dies a-borning
Without you, without you