Well the days are slipping past now:Days of calibrated sorrowThis is our little piece of history(maybe we get some tomorrow?)There’s still the trouble with the off-switchAnd still the struggle with the satyrBut there’s nothing much to see here now;Not a lot that really mattersAnd the Wild World listens as you singAnd the Wild World wants you for a sunbeam..although the light is fadingThere’s still enough to read byAnd the world will hold a candle for youAs the hallucinations speed byAnd you’d better make your peace withAll thе things you know are true nowAnd all the things you didn’t do..that you’rе never gonna do nowFor the Wild World shines in the rainAnd the Wild World slips through your fingersYou can try and sum it up- to tell somebody how you found itWell the best of luck with thatYou won’t get your arms around itBecause the falling of the sparrowsBecause the rising of the larksBecause the little boats a’ sailing (on the Wine Dark Sea)Because the drinkers in the parks…And the making of the mountainsThe stones you kept as souvenirs:The fragments you have gathered upThrough the distortion of the yearsAnd the Wild World spins you into spaceAnd the Wild World wishes you the best nowBecause it loves you very muchIt made a place for you to live inComplicated to the touch:And neither vengeful nor forgivingEmbrace your torments now:Your many lacerationsYour lamentationsYour thirst for adoration …And at the bottom of it allThere may be nothing there at all..and Oh! to this accomodationAnd to this grand delusion -I can be trueAnd everything is humming;World, I cannot hold you close enoughThis I leave with you…. I leave with you
