Clay Band


Garish the lights and the runaway waltz

That is spinning and twirling and old-fashioned carousel

Through the bright mirrors a strange face stares back at me

Laughing the voices of children


Chipped the white horse on whose saddle has carried

The burdens of all of these sad and these happy days

Still in her eyes burns the fire that was painted by hand

By some long ago artist


Round and round

Round and round under the sun

Nothing new

But it’s all new to me


All the bright streams rush and flow to the ocean

It takes all that they can give, yet it is never full

Wind blows down to the south, and to the north wastelands

Round and round, ever returning


Let me off of this ride

Into the night, into the night

Pour oil on my head

Dress me in white, dress me in white