The Eleven (Live in San Francisco, 1969; 2001 Remaster)

High green chilly winds and windy vines

In loops around the twisted shafts of lavender,

Theyre crawling to the sun.

Underfoot the ground is patched

With arms of ivy wrapped around the manzanita,

Stark and shiny in the breeze.

Wonder who will water all the children of the garden

When they sigh about the barren lack of rain and

Droop so hungry neath the sky.

William tell has stretched his bow till it wont stretch

No furthermore and/or it may require a change that hasnt come before.

No more time to tell how, this is the season of what,

Now is the time of returning with our thought

Jewels polished and gleaming.

Now is the time past believing the child has relinquished the rein,

Now is the test of the boomerang tossed in the night of redeeming.

Seven faced marble eyed transitory dream doll,

Six proud walkers on the jingle bell rainbow,

Five men writing with fingers of gold,

Four men tracking down the great white sperm whale,

Three girls waiting in a foreign dominion

Riding in the whalebelly, fade away in moonlight,

Sink beneath the waters to the coral sands below.