In a Pigsty

I played the harp
In a pigsty,
Thinking if I played for long enough they might

Turn away
From their feed
So that I could steal a handful of their beans.

Sleeping on
A pile of hayseed,
I will sink until I'm underneath the floor;

And like Job
Said to his Lord:
"You will look for me but I will be no more."

I have knocked
With friendly face
On the door that keeps the world in its place;

When no one came,
I realized
That I was knocking on the front door of my house.

So this is my
Quiet ascension;
I'm not one for tearing schisms in the sky:

A little meat,
A little bread,
And my parents holding candles by my bed.



Credits
Writer(s): Paul Sauerteig
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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