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What the waters wants is hurricanes |
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And sailboats to ride on its back |
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What the water wants is sun kiss |
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And land to run into and back |
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I have a fish stone burning my elbow |
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Reminding me to know that I'm glad |
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That I have a bottle filled with my own teeth |
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They fell out like a tear in the bag |
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And I have a sister somewhere in Detroit |
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She has black hair and small hands |
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And I have a kettle drum |
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I'll hit the earth with you |
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And I will crochet you a hat |
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And I have a red kite |
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I'll put you right in it |
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I'll show you the sky |
