Oh somewhere east of the Hennepin line
The streets shine with an animal light
Over the lakes, over the saints and the tide
Oh somewhere east of the Hennepin line
So when my feet are swollen and bare
And my suit is worn to a thread
I’ll remember the blood on my brow
Tied like the workhorse to the plow
Oh Saint Mary of the dead weeds,
Saint Helen of the thorns
Cast off like the dry seeds into the Red Sea (and around the great horn)
And the fat grows lean and my kitchen bare
Well these animal lights will leave you standing there
Just waiting for the rain to fall
All over these pastures of salt
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