| The day draws a shade
|
| Pulls the thread of your frayed lace undone
|
| It falls like the evenings
|
| That charm then devour their young—
|
| The face of the moon
|
| On the river will shiver and run
|
| From belief to surrender
|
| And I want you to lead me on
|
| The quiet of midnight
|
| Is bright and it sounds an alarm
|
| As men from the county line
|
| Get down and take up their arms—
|
| No one you can name
|
| Is just that one thing they have shown
|
| You speak from the shadows
|
| And I want you to lead me on
|
| The deep valley falls and it
|
| Rises with blood in its eyes
|
| The sharp mountain crawls into clouds
|
| Wears a blade-thin disguise—
|
| The hour is hung on a ladder rung
|
| Cut from my bone—
|
| You move high above me
|
| And I want you to move me on…
|
| This is my body-
|
| Already broken for thee
|
| The black coal at my soul not a diamond
|
| But cracked open and free—
|
| The dark rushing river sweeps
|
| Pushing away and along
|
| Like light through the pines
|
| And I want you to lead me on |