| The green covered place that I went to in spring |
| With a notebook and what cigarettes I could bring |
| The cloverleaf crossing now ties in a ring |
| And how the beautiful changes |
| When the men with a dream who are never refused |
| Drum up the exciting to reap the unused |
| The lovers are judged and condemned unaccused |
| And the beautiful dies with the harvest |
| Now the loveliest creatures that God ever made |
| Have all picked a partner and joined the parade |
| Where they’ll crack up together from making the grade |
| And how the beautiful changes |
| They pull into the kerb and they crowd out the bars |
| Watching an astronaut fall toward Mars |
| He’s talking in clichés that put out the stars |
| And the beautiful dies with the harvest |
| Too late is the way a man finally learns |
| The light of salvation recedes and returns |
| As you freeze with the cold or you croak from the burns |
| And how the beautiful changes |
| In the pink of the sunset high over the park |
| The con trails are tracing their spiral and arc |
| As the angels turn eastwards to fight back the dark |
| And the beautiful dies with the harvest |
| With gaps in the fabric regrets never mend |
| I’ve seen the eternities crawl to their end |
| The comedown of many a fine feathered friend |
| And how the beautiful changes |
| There’s a fine line between love of living and greed |
| Say the men of affairs and deliberate speed |
| As the ugly goes into the ground with the seed |
| And the beautiful dies with the harvest |
| Now the fire of redemption is a guttering flame |
| A man is an image before he’s a name |
| And the deadly arrangement that fixes the game |
| Is the way the inhuman is always the same |
| And how the beautiful changes |
| How the beautiful changes |