1. |
stag
03:08
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a white stag stumbles out of the brambles all bruised
and still shaking he lays down under pale light of moon
(the moon is heavy over the treetops)
now the hunting is done
and the stag stumbles home
now the hunting is done
and the stag sleeps alone
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2. |
pointing hands
03:04
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pointing hands favor not the bolder man
rather those who keep their own way
and care not what hands have to say
the palm doesn't lie;
it dictates the ride
so do not defy
and count all the lines
i am lost in these woods
i am calling to nothing
i am lost without hands
i am lost without pointing
searching for answers or at least a word
there are things i don't understand
i'm a man - i follow those hands
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3. |
eggs
02:18
|
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no birds will emerge from eggs in a carton
still i put them by my window
in a nest with nice views
not to exploit eggs but to show you
that in some ways i have changed
love starts in the mud so
let what you love grow
you don't keep it in small cages
but i kept your collages
with seagulls all over them
with birch trees across the pages
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4. |
water rushing
04:04
|
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a river flowing in between us;
with sorry eyes i watch the waves rush
there is no point in treading water
i try my best but get no farther
i feel doubt like a thorn in my side
see you there standing in the tide
waves crash cold tossing me around
i am cold lying on the ground
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