THE LAST THING ON MY MIND
(by Tom Paxton; learned from my brother Herm Fitz in about 1968)
It's a lesson too late for the learnin', made of sand, made of sand.
You've got plenty of reasons for goin', this I know, this I know.
As I lie in my bed in the mornin', without you, without you,
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)
In the wink of an eye my heart is turnin', in your hand, in your hand.
Are you going away with no words of farewell?
Will there be not a trace left behind?
Well, I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind,
You know that was the last thing on my mind.
For the weeds have been steadily growin', please don't go, please don't go.
Are you going away with no words of farewell...
Each song in my breast dies a-bornin', without you, without you.
Are you going away with no words of farewell...