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Old man sits in a apricot tree He sees I and I see he Old man sweet as the fruit he's picking Knows the rhythm of natures ticking Gives a smile of tooth and metal Winks an eye like a falling petal Face a furrowed field of life Tracks the years of the living knife He I love he I know Seasons come So fruitman go Through the crowd I enter in See the head of virgin skin Frail the old mans hand I take peace be with you Sunday shake Sweet old man he turns to me Tries to tell me what's to be He don't say no words at all tears from him like fruit do fall He I love he I know See sons that come So fruitman go He I love he I know See sons that come So fruitman go From Letras Mania