Then came the question and it was about time

The answer came back and it was long

The house, it was built by some man in a rhyme

But whatever came of his talented son? Who wrote me a dialogue set to a tune?

Always, you told me of being alone

Except for the stories about God and you

And do you still live there in Buffalo? They put up the walls with no more to say

Nobody stopped to ask why it was done

The stream was too far and the rain was too high

So, into the city the river did run Because of the architect, the buildings fell down

Smothered or drowned, all the seeds which were sown

I wish I were somewhere but not in this town

Maybe the ocean next time around I seem to remember the face and the name

But if it's not you, I won't care

I know of changes but nothing would change you

To Theo the sailor who sings in his lair And then I'll turn and he won't be there

Dusky black windows to light the dark stair

Candles all gnarled in the musty air

All without flames for many's the year