oh how much dust there is! and oh how much
yeast!
and now that i've gotten older,
how much less i lose peace.
this quietness must be the
way i love you, this is the
way i trust you, this,
oh hum,
is the way i grow old,
i wanted to hold to these
moments once, now i learn
to live letting go,
and i don't take offence
as much anymore,
and i don't cry about
what can come anymore,
and i'm not surprised
by blessings, baruch acha,
oh god, my love,
like i once was