As I wind down the pines
It's the lines on your face
Playing on your face.
Without thinking so much
As abandoning thought
I went through open country
Over water meadow streams
Lakes and wires and roosts in reeds
To a nest in the hole of
This dead
Tree.
To play without stopping or pause
Not for silence not for applause
Not without thinking
And thinking's abandoning thought.
As I wind down the pines
It's the lines on your face
Playing on your face.
| 1 | Ahead by a Century |
| 2 | New Orleans is Sinking |
| 3 | Bobcaygeon |
| 4 | Long Time Running |
| 5 | Little Bones |
| 6 | Blow at High Dough |
| 7 | In View |
| 8 | Trouble At The Henhouse |
| 9 | At Transformation |
| 10 | Courage |