Back in the Good Old World

When I was a boy the moon was a pearl, the sun a yellow gold. But when I was a man the wind blew cold, the hills were upside down. But now that I have gone from here there's no place I'd rather be than to float my chances on the tide back in the good old world.

On October's last I'll fly back home rolling down winding way, scare crows are all dressed in rags out at the edge of the field I lay. And all I've got is a pocket full of flowers on my grave. Oh but summer is gone. I remember it best back in the good old world.

Tom Waits