Old man sits in an apricot tree He sees i and i sees he Old man sweet as the fruit he's picking Know the rythm of natures ticking Gives a smile of tooth and metal Winks an eye like a falling petal Face a furrowed feald of life Tracks the tears of a living knife
He i love He i know Seasons come So fruitman go
Through the crowd i enter in See the head of virgin skin Frail the old mans hand i take Peace be with you sunday shake Sweet old man he turns to me Tries to tell me what's to be He don't say no words at all Tears from him like fruit do fall
He i love He i know See sons that come So fruitman go
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