New in Retrospect Lyrics

Well, two weeks a year or three weeks a year

You go to Maine or you go here or you go there and have vacation

And then you say well, back to the slave pen

Back to the slave pen, back to the whip

Back to the tyranny of doing things

Which in themselves are really not worth my doing

Now I enjoy cutting this, this is

This is waste

This rejected peabrush is waste

I've been cutting this up for an hour this morning

I had a thoroughly good time doing this

I would rather do this than play tennis

Or golf, or anything that you can mention

And I certainly would rather do this than watch television

Or listen to neighboring gossip about nothing in particular

Now we're back in a worse version of what we rehearsed

And I think it's a lovely style

Won't you talk to me a little about that symbol

That we saw in the meanwhile

And Vermont's got a new kind of point of view

And I think this shit won't do again

It's the best thing we got but the system is shot

And I don't think we can upend it

And I said into the night: "Where has Scott Nearing gone?"

Standing pondside, high, in Gehenna where the winters are long

This is crouching by the doorway letting cold air in

We are living in the Latter Days, growing thin

And it's all coming back to that night, bright on the lawn

And I've really got a feeling that everything's reeling back

And Faith's got her lighter out

And Ishmael and Isaac aren't quite realizing

That there's nothing else to fight about

It's a nasty era to try and be a pair of

Twins in a unique way

But Theo and Miles are coming in style

It doesn't matter what they say

And I said into the night: "Where has Scott Nearing gone?"

Standing pondside, high, in Gehenna where the winters are long

This is crouching by the doorway letting cold air in

We are living in the Latter Days, growing thin

And it's all coming back to that night, bright on the lawn

And this is all just feelings

Coming from the ceiling

Of the brain like it always does

There's no more truth here

But Naomi and Ruth

Are knocking on the door of love

And I said into the night: "Where has Scott Nearing gone?"

Standing pondside, high, in Gehenna where the winters are long

This is crouching by the doorway letting cold air in

We are living in the Latter Days, growing thin

And it's all coming back to that night, bright on the lawn

There you go now, baby

Baby baby baby baby ba– oh

Go do your thing

Go do your thing

Go do your thing

Go into the woods and do your thing