A pocket full of honey

For a day in the workshop

And I axe and cleave and graft

So the honey doesn't stop, and

Calloused hands til autumn

Til the sun bows her head

But I'd rather this reality

Than a pencil full of lead

And with every drop of the hammer

I know that it makes me tall

And though my arms are heavy with work

My bones, they sing with my soul

My boots are made for this

So I can trundle through

Air bites my skin and makes me feel anew

The fire [?] of autumn leaves are fading now

The ashes have all fallеn

Found their place within the ground

Thеy turned to silver-grey from golden

The soil will hold them close

Drag them down without a sound

They've fallen

They've fallen down

A pocket full of honey

For a day in the workshop

And I axe and cleave and graft

So the honey doesn't stop, and

Calloused hands til autumn

Til the sun bows her head

But I'd rather this reality

Than a pencil full of lead