The Mountain Low

I once was a weaker soldier hanging in the war 
  But I left, like an ape, folded neatly in four 
  And silently played for a moment slow and bled 
  On a sandalwood bust I had 
  Where was the field where I had pressed another down 
  Where I had revealed myself by crying and shouting ? 
  I turned away from that and into this 
  Black kettle of one-ness 

  I have not been feeling the same 
  I am not fit to carry your name 
  I am not fit and I am not willing 
  To go on 

  Sold, down the lane, in a way to restrain 
  You from calling a name and then regretting 
  If you save what you own you are always alone 
  And then why postpone the good death ? 
  We are those who break laws when the cold body thaws 
  Who prefer breaking jaws but must lower ourselves 
  Unfit though we are to help you get very far 
  Still we would never mar your rightful due 

  And I have not been feeling the same 
  I am not fit to carry your name 
  I am not fit and I am not willing 
  To go on 

  It was noon before she moved into the yards and pressed her hair 
  With a hand yellowed, smooth, and shaking 
  She had pulled on a housedress over nothing but her skin 
  And stood in the grass looking about her 
  You breath in here, and you've breathed of me 
  My girl here, she loves you, she'll take you upstairs 
  Call on me later, much later in life 
  But do me a favor and leave her up there 

  I am not feeling the same 
  (I have not been feeling the same) 
  I am not willing to carry your name 
  (I am not fit to carry your name) 
  I am not here and I am not going 
  (I am not fit and I am not willing) 
  To be there 
  (To go on)