The Work

Do the years add up to the suck and the blow
Of a breath and a beating heart there must be more
You can wash your face in a sunset song
But the lines will still remain and they'll never be gone

You bully your land with a furrowed brow
But King Harvest leaves with a thinning crown
You may bow your head as the hair recedes
But it's filled with years that no one can steal

When the work stops working
What was light becomes a weight
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?
When the work stops working
And the weight becomes an ache
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?
Or start again?

The search for answers is an idiot's task
I'm not half way there but don't want to ask
The search gives a glint to the old eye
And I'll keep on looking 'til the day I die

Is the work half worth it when your hands grow raw?
When your knees keep creaking like an old barn door?
The gloves of love become an old man's friend
And you'll learn to make a stand, not to stoop and bend

When the work stops working
What was light becomes a weight
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?
When the work stops working
And the weight becomes an ache
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?
Or start again?

The lines remain and they will never be gone
A life is filled with years no one can steal
I'll keep on looking 'til the day I die
I'll learn to make a stand, not stoop and bend

When the work stops working
What was light becomes a weight
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?
When the work stops working
And the weight becomes an ache
When the work stops working
Shall we pack it all in?