The day will come
At a redrawing of
The boundaries
When Pilsudski
Will rear his head
In Iberia
'Cause he's been moving west
For centuries
Creeping
Every time
That Mazzini turns
In his grave
And I have watched his drift
With sallow skin
And with longing
For the western coasts
Where he would lay his head
And get well
For he has caught a disease
That makes him bleed when breathing
They sent him south for the cure
To the shores of the Starnbergersee
And so the day will come
When I pack my things
And move west
Into the setting sun
Because my strength has failed
I am fading
So will you tend my sheep
And will you till my fields
Until I get back
'Cause I'll be coming home
My health restored
If Josef can lose
Himself in the dark
Of the continent
Then surely
There must be a way
That I can cough up the last
Of the blood in my lungs
And lose myself
Nineteenth century science
Cannot soother my chest
Staggering through Europe
I keep on heading west
My medicine
Is a setting sun
My medicine
My medicine
Is a setting sun
My medicine
Is a setting sun
My medicine
My medicine
Is a setting sun
My medicine
My medicine
Is a setting sun
My medicine
My medicine
Is a setting sun
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