Eyes and ears are two.Lungs and kidneys, too.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that skips a beat when hay is here,and beats quickly when you are near.One heart that cracks when you are far, lie to me and leave a scar.I wonder thenwhy we're born with oneheart that gets broken.Was I supposed to find you then?So your heart would make one plus one is twofor me andtwo for you.

Take this drink as a token of my disrepute and spin that hay tonight and tomorrow it will be shining golden bright in whatever heavy delirious weave you wish to make.

Take this drink as a token ofmy disrepute and spin that hay tonight and tomorrow it will be shining golden bright in whatever heavy delirious weave you wish to make.

She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun.

As the sun shines I will make hayTo keep failure at bayFor there remaineth a payFor my honest toil each day.