My love oh how she dances,
In twitters and in glances,
She glitters past the eyes of all men.
Well her smiles they turn hearts,
And her hand makes art of pages,
While people start for ages at the wisp of her tongue.
But like wind through the treetops,
Her touch it moves me so,
And I walk around in circles when I’m alone.
The focus of her attention,
Is ne’re maligned by bad intention,
She knows the blind must be taught with logic and not force.
And though her name it meaneth light,
Which shines upon this land,
It is the kindness of her hand which tends the chloe forth.
But like wind through the treetops,
Her touch it moves me so,
And I walk around in circles when I’m alone.
Oh in my hands are empty cups,
And those cups fill empty hands,
Till she cast them by the side and take me home.
My love oh how she aches,
For the rose make no mistake,
She surely knows she must read much before she writes.
And in her stories you may see,
The tale of a tree,
On which she nails all sympathy as if t’were spite.
But like wind through the treetops,
Her touch it moves me so,
And I walk around in circles when I’m alone.
Yes I walk around and circles when I’m alone.
Feeds for this album, this artist
