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 Starnberger see

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
Because I will be coming home
My health restored
And 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