Tarot · Track 69 · middle
Six of Pentacles
RWS: a merchant holding level scales in one hand while dropping coins into the hands of one kneeling beggar, a second kneeling beside him waiting. Keywords: charity, the power that sits in the giving hand, the scales, generosity that quietly keeps score.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
I keep the brass weights resting in my left hand The pavement's quiet, the morning's turning gray You've got a blue patch sewn crooked on your collar I’ve got a little extra cash today You cup your palms, you settle in the dirt I tilt the scale to see what you are worth Oh, the balance is a quiet kind of cage Level and steady and perfectly still I drop the silver down to pay the wage I am the water, and you are the mill It's freely given, but we both know the score The hand that opens is the hand that locks the door There is another fellow waiting by the brick Wrapped in a faded blanket, looking up at me He hasn't spoken, but he watches how they tip Four heavy coins into your fingers, one, two, three I hold the iron measure in the cold Deciding what is given, what is owed The brain just loves a ledger it can read A sudden pattern in the random spin I buy a little quiet for my trouble You buy a little fire for your skin But don't stand up until I say we're done Oh, the balance is a quiet kind of cage Level and steady and perfectly still I drop the silver down to pay the wage I am the water, and you are the mill It's freely given, but we both know the score The hand that opens is the hand that locks the door I tip the scale The other man is waiting The brass is heavy in the morning chill I drop the coin The ledger holds