A Small Plot of Land (Live at the Shakespeare Festival, New York, 18th September, 1995)

Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so

Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The Barbs laughed
The fool is dead

Poor dunce
He's more than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer can
Travel so far these days

Thrilling of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce

Swings through the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days

Poor dunce
Poor dunce

Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so