On The Wicker Table

On the wicker table 
I left you a letter 
And the branch to an olive tree 
The last time I saw you 
You begged me to touch you 
But I would not mislead 

It’s time for me to 
Move to the country 
When I’ve no one to sing to 
I’ll sing with the birds and the trees 
I’ll live in the mountains 
That overlook the Hudson 
And I’ll wear a ring of leaves 

I can’t hear my song 
Over the sounds of the city 
Yet I went along 
With the sounds of the city 
And you never heard 
A word come out of me 

On the wicker table 
I left a cup of tea 
And the branch to an olive tree 
It’s time for me to 
Move to the country 
All I ask is that the city 
Remember me