The Last Thing On My Mind

it's a lesson too late for the learning made of sand,made of sand in the wink of an eye my soul is turning in your hand,in you hand as we walk,all my thoughts are a-tumblin' 'round and 'round,'round and 'round underneath our feet the subway's bumblin' underground,underground you've got lessons a plenty for goin this i know,this i know for the weeds have been steadily growen please don't go,please don't go as i lie in my bed in the morning without you,without you each song in my breast dies a-borning without you,without you