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Old man sits in an apricot tree |
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He sees i and i sees he |
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Old man sweet as the fruit he's picking |
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Knows the rhythm of nature's ticking |
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Gives a smile of tooth and metal |
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Winks an eye like a falling petal |
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Face a furrowed field of life tracks |
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The years of the living knife |
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He i love, he i know |
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Seasons come, so fruitman go |
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Through the crowd i enter in |
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See the head of virgin skin |
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Frail the old man's hand i take |
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Peace be with you sunday shake |
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Sweet old man he turns to me |
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Tries to tell me what's to be |
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He don't say no words at all |
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Tears from him like fruit do fall |
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He i love, he i know |
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See sons that come, so fruitman go |
