By the end of my turn
She waits in the brush
And returns when the clocks give in
She only counts ones
And fives and tens
By the end she'll be gone again
It starts with her halves
But my haves and have-nots
Won't have to be something she needs
The simplest things
Are the things that I want
And she seems pretty simple to me
I am tethering
I am waiting for one new
I am tethering to
My thoughts are not quick
But her quick to the draw
Comes quickly with someone my speed
My death in the clay
Where the water runs thick
Will return me to her one day
I am tethering
I am waiting for one new
I am tethering to