I would have come to the canyon to cry To wash tears from our cheeks To wash years from our lives Such sorrows are held there So much noise is quelled there Out where the horizon's spread wide If the world wasn't sick If we didn't have to hide I would have come to the canyon To bury what's died The who that was one-half of us Is less than one-half of me now For one, you don't own me And two, you don't owe me And three, there's more what than there's why If the world wasn't sick If we didn't have to hide I would have come to the canyon To bury what's died Oh, Guadeloupe To be a reveler at your party To dance beneath your skirts and climb To soak the shelter of your shadow And touch the life of another time The stone, the palm trees, and the vine Oh, Guadeloupe To be a reveler at your party To dance beneath your skirts and climb To soak the shelter of your shadow To touch the life of another time The stone, the palm trees, and the vine The West Village landscapes do all that they can To make us feel better about changing our plans The divine in perspective The beauty in hand That lights empty benches of Manhattanhenge As alone as I am I crave time by myself The pursuit of my mind, body, spirit, and health Rank top of the list So selfish, so twisted The reasons for how I've behaved That what I want may itself be the cave I would have come to the canyon To bury what's died I would have come to the canyon To bury what's died It's often been spoken about how we've been broken But now the horizon's spread wide A new tale may be told in the wild