| A strange July, storm came down
|
| From the north and pulled out the salt
|
| And it tore out the leaves
|
| From the pear tree and my canopy
|
| In the twigs and the bugs of sow
|
| I knew somehow I was free
|
| I held a stone above my bones
|
| I was shaking
|
| In the blue stained glass church
|
| You gathered up my heart
|
| Sauntered together all the tiny shattered parts
|
| I said, 'all I can see in front of me is the armpit of a crow'
|
| You closed the ring and opened the door
|
| And ran into the summer yard
|
| 'Cause the sun’s been known to shine
|
| On our wandering kind
|
| Yeah, the sun’s been known to shine
|
| On our wandering kind
|
| (to shine)
|
| Clogging on her wooden board
|
| The tattooed girl took up her swords
|
| And plunged them down deep into the earth
|
| A twinkling tie filled up her eyes
|
| And poured out to the lawn
|
| A made a raft of the scraps from her skirt
|
| And sailed 'til dawn
|
| 'Cause the sun’s been known to shine
|
| On our wandering kind
|
| (to shine)
|
| Yeah, the sun’s been known to shine
|
| On our wandering kind
|
| (to shine)
|
| Our wandering kind |