| It’s only when the high winds blow that I wish my hair was long
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| Sailing through the autumn leaves singing an ancient song
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| Or falling in love in the streets at night at the edge of a local square
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| It’s only that I’m here tonight thinking I was there
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| There are high winds on the pier tonight, my soul departs from me
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| Striding like Thalia’s ghost south on the murky sea
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| And into midnight’s tapestry she fades, ragged and wild
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| Searching down her ancestry in the costume of a Persian child
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| And gulf winds bring me flying fish that shine in the crescent moon
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| Show me the horizon where the dawn will break anew
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| And cool me here on this lonely pier where the heron are flying low
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| Echo the songs my father knew in the towns of Mexico
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| When I was young my eyes were wise, my father was good to me
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| Instead of having a flock of sons he had two other girls and me
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| And if we had used our Spanish names, here’s the way they’d run
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| Thalia, Margarita and Juanita, I’m the middle one
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| The screen door kept the demons in as we moved from town to town
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| It’s hard to be a princess in the States when your skin is brown
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| And mama smoothed my worried brow as I leaned on the kitchen door
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| Why do you carry the weight, she said, of the world and maybe more?
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| And gulf winds bring me flying fish that shine in the crescent moon
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| Show me the horizon where the dawn will break anew
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| And cool me here on this lonely pier where the heron are flying low
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| Echo the songs my father knew in the towns of Mexico
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| My grandfathers were ministers and it came on down the line
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| My father preached in his parents' church when he was ten years and nine
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| And mama dressed in parishoners' clothes and didn’t believe in hell
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| Her daddy fought the DAR, if he’d lived I’d have known him well
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| They said go find a Sunday School, we must have tried them all
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| I never stole from the silver plate, my sisters had more gall
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| One preacher said sing out loud and clear, it’s the only life you’ve got
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| And the next one said be good on earth, you’ve another life at the feet of God
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| And gulf winds bring me flying fish that shine in the crescent moon
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| Show me the horizon where the dawn will break anew
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| And cool me here on this lonely pier where the heron are flying low
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| Echo the songs my father knew in the towns of Mexico
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| My father turned down many a job just to give us something real
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| It’s hard to be a scientist in the States when you’ve got ideals
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| And mama kept the budget book, she kept the garden, too
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| Bought fish from the man on Thursday, fed all of us and strangers, too
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| But time will pass and so, alas, will most of what we know
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| Though tonight my memory’s eye is clear as the story’s being told
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| And I’ll play ball with the underdog and sit with the child who’s wrong
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| Be still when the earth is silent and sing when my strength is gone
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| And gulf winds bring me flying fish that shine in the crescent moon
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| Show me the horizon where the dawn will break anew
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| And cool me here on this lonely pier where the heron are flying low
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| Echo the songs my father knew in the towns of Mexico
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| Now father’s going to India sometime in the fall
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| They tried to stay together but you just can’t do it all
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| I’ll think about him if he goes, there’s a little grey in his hair
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| Though not much because he’s Mexican, they don’t age, they just prepare
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| And if he goes to India I’ll miss him most of all
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| He’ll see me in the mudlarks' face, hear me in the beggar’s call
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| And mama will stay home, I guess, and worry if she did wrong
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| And I’ll say a prayer for both of them and sing them both my song
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| And gulf winds bring me flying fish that shine in the crescent moon
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| Show me the horizon where the dawn will break anew
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| And cool me here on this lonely pier where the heron are flying low
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| Echo the songs my father knew in the towns of Mexico |