lost everything but my zither
lost everything but my zither
twang it goes
sproing when a string breaks

i've only six strings left
sproing each one went of the original thirty-two
until only six were left
only these six were left

twang they go and i imagine
they are buffalo colliding on the plain

six buffalo lying on their sides, unconscious
O what music
O what music the buffalo make
when they are unconscious

twang go the buffalo
and the big moon comes out of the sky
like clumsy fingers

and sometimes i sing as the buffalo collide
yes there's the moon and i'm singing

twang those two hit head-first
twang and one of them is hit broadside
twang i sing in a small voice as the dusty plain rumbles

get a guitar get a guitar
small little subcompact cars will drive o'er the plain
and the buffalo
the buffalo will scatter like tectonic plates

later by the fire, we're surrounded by cars
yes a ring of cars runs round us
as we sit by the fire
you teach me to yodel
we drink cups of coffee
and the buffalo
wait

what could they be thinking
standing 'neath the stars
perhaps they're imagining the twang of impact
getting in what thoughts they can - before
they go blank

but the buffalo have never seen me
though i've often watched them
lying on their wide sides
in the short grass of the plain

i walk around listening
look into their empty brown eyes
O buffalo, buffalo
what joy you bring
when you make that sound

twang