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TO THE DOLPHINS
Oh they neither toil nor spin,
excepting maybe in the air
on the water when the weather is fair.
But you, you love the struggle and the sin.
The hammer in your hand and the sweat in your hair
and the concept that life isn’t fair.
So I’m running away to the dolphins.
If I oil my skin,
will they let me in?
And so what have we got to show?
Overrated brains and underrated tears
after two million years.
Buildings never make me leap for joy in the sun.
The scheme’s the thing, get yourself another one
when the thing is done.
So I’m sending this song to the dolphins.
Do they think I’m cute?
It’s all right if they do.
Oh they neither toil nor spin.
They only fell down to the sea
and the bondage of its harmony.
But oh, we chose the struggle and the sin.
The hard, hard wisdom and the golden slavery
to our concept of being free.
Well, you tell me I am what I do.
It’s not sufficient just to be,
but I wish it could be that way with me.
And so I write this song for you.
That and swimming always were the best times for me
as I walk in my landlocked sea.
But I’m listening still to the dolphins.
My feet have the ground,
but my ears have the sound.
My ears have the sound.
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