They drove you toward that fallen highway You reached that concrete river at dawn You were scorned by the scores of passing travellers By night, you were nowhere, but you were nearly gone You were scared, and you dared not look behind you What have you cast away, what have you thrown Where are your friends that you fashioned the dream with Where are their hands on your collarbones They are here, they are here They are here and waiting They are with you walking, they are with you in bed Come and let them bring you water Come and let them hold your hand And say here is the end of all your troubles Here is the garden, wet and bright Here is your seat, beneath the cedars Here is the young, unfolding night They are here, they are here They are here and waiting Here in the electric air you lost in your youth Here in the sheets in the shuddering pleasures Here in your children, strong and good Here is the end of all your struggles Here is the garden, wet and bright Here is your seat, beneath the cedars Here is the close and holy night
cedar, wet, garden, shuddering, collarbone