Seven-Mile Island

Take my body to Seven-Mile Island

Lay my head down where Indians sleep

Take your shoes off and walk across the water

It's been so long since I heard a man speak

Watch the spillways when the water starts rising

Take your hat off when the sun goes down

Keep your eyes on that concrete tower

Maybe one day, it will crumble to the ground

Mary's crying 'cause she can't hold water

And her clothes don't fit her right

She used to say that she wanted a daughter

Now she only wants a Saturday night

There were days when that dusty cave was empty

Back before this city made a claim

On that hotel for wanderers and strangers

Back before you could live off of your name

We all live in an Airstream trailer

About 300 yards up the lake

Call the doctor, Mary's going into labour

And you can't raise a baby on shake

So take my body to Seven-Mile Island

Lay some stones down on top of my grave

Tell my lady, I just couldn't bear to see her

Tell my daughter, I just couldn't be saved

Just couldn't be saved

Couldn't be