(Tom Paxton) Are you going away with no word of farewell
Will there be not a trace left behind
I could have loved you better
Didn't mean to be unkind
You know that was the last thing on my mind
It's a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand
In the wink of an eye my soul is turning
In your hand, in your hand
You've got plenty of reasons for going
This I know, this I know
For the weeds have been steadily growing
Please don't go, please don't go
As I lie in my bed in the morning
Without you, without you
Each song in my breast dies a-borning
Without you, without you