| Songbirds in the morning had my head
|
| Lost in the tall trees I knew well
|
| Well, I would say, dreaming my dry weeds
|
| Stray light finds its way to all of us
|
| Say something green, it comes back
|
| Sunlight on my lips, let 'em kiss dark leaves
|
| Let the hands of the wrong prophets heal me all they should
|
| Let the wine of the poison Jesuses taste good
|
| And all those trees lay down
|
| If you were a bird and fell into my arms
|
| If I wrote your song in stone
|
| If I wore your wings back home
|
| Would the dreams in the backwater drown us far from harm?
|
| Give this to the gray, it comes back gold
|
| Birds of the morning, they may know
|
| Know more than us, giving their hymns for life
|
| Let the waves on the wrong water say what they will say
|
| While the wind and the broken branches float me away
|
| All tall trees lay down if you were the bird who fell into my arms
|
| I could write your song in stone
|
| I could wear your wings back home
|
| Would the dreams in the backwater drown us far from harm? |