Quiet

I am heading for a time of quiet,
When my restlessness is past,
And I can lie down on my blanket
And release my fists at last.

I am heading for a time of solitude,
Of peace without illusions,
When the perfect circle marries all,
Beginnings and conclusions.

And when they say that you’re not good enough,
Well, the answer is, you’re not.
But who are they, or what is it
That eats at what you’ve got

With the hunger of ambition
For the change inside the purse?
They are handcuffs on the soul, my friends,
Handcuffs on the soul...and worse.

Now I'm heading for a place of quiet,
Where the sage and sweetgrass grow,
By a lake of sacred water
From the mountain’s melted snow.

-Paul Simon