Besedila: Mountain Goats, The. Quito.

When I receive the blessing I've got coming

I'm going to raise an ice-cold glass of water

And toast the living and the dead who've gone before me

And my head will throb like an old wound reopening



When I get off the bus down there my children

They all are going to greet me at the station

Like gypsies they will dance around me

And the choral droning sound their voices make will saturate the evening



When I get off the wheel I'm going to stop

And make amends to everyone I've wounded

And when I wave my magic wand

Those few who've slipped the surly bonds will rise like salmon at the spawning