I loved him for a moment, by accident. Like throwing out my cigarette down at the Mobil. 

And a grey hair budded in the beards of all the lonely men in Iowa turning soil, 

a partridge was shot down from the sky, 

a grapevine turned to wine. 

It was a love that aged the whole world. 

It was one more moment that the river was changed and gone. 

Stop all the clocks or don’t. 

God gives us sleep to ease us, it is His Greatest Testament of Mercy and Affection. 

So all the lonely men in Iowa lay their heads down 

and soften their brows at night 

while grey hairs speckle their beards. 

I drink the wine of a hundred grapes turned raisin, 

and when God shows me His mercy, 

He’ll shoot me down from the sky and I’ll fly, back to the earth, and I’ll change it again.