Oh, the first of August
Lying on the cold leaf ground
Pulling out of focus
Colors slowly breaking down
Down the road
You've been drawing
Pictures of

Pray you go with the sweet wind
They'll be trees there that you know
So careful not to harden
Sure to make a letter home

Down the road
Where you shinning
Were last seen at the fork

Mama knows you gotta go, son
Sister’s gonna miss you when you go

Down the road
You've been drawing
Line by line
And the poet
Has been writing you
Writing you down
If it wears harder
Still steps in a winding dark
There is music that you're raising
And your own little baby
Is waiting

And don't you think that you were right
And don't you think that you were right

Mama knows you gotta go, son
Sister’s gonna miss you when you go
See the sun on the other side
On the first of August