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In a small far room the bed is set |
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With trinkets all surrounding |
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Yet lone it rests, so dry it sets |
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With souls aside abiding |
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There moves legs warm and close inside |
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No, no leg braces a hello |
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And pictures on walls where paint is lame |
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Where sinks are friendly running |
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Reflect, reflect metal cast |
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My toe has long been swollen |
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My knees are blue, my eyes are too |
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My love has not forgotten |
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Will come, will come, o he will come |
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And make me have a baby |
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Then I foresee we all, us three, will ride and all together |
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The hills have eyes, their trees have lives |
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Disjointed like a hero |
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No saga told, no things unfold |
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To make the ride much finer |
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The length is fine, his hand in mine |
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Does someone hear our chatter |
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A lover's laugh, a bleeding calf |
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A dog out in the harbor |
