“Saints above” she said, with a hand upon my head
And we wheeled over the field under the sky
And I was nineteen and she was twenty-one
And we were high low high low high low high
We were high low high low high

Now a leper kneels and prays
For bright and future airy days
His bandages have all decayed
The sun is beating down
And from the forest flies a bird
A cardinal that’s overheard
And understood the leper’s words
And become his shocking crown

These are the kinds of things she’d say to me while crying on my shoulder
And I am trying to console her
But we’re high low high low high low high
When you’re high, you’re low, when you’re high