This is my song to Sunday mornings
Where Son and Heir find skin
And as I contemplate the ceiling
And the mysteries therein
There's something vast in your eyes
It keeps me small and listless
Here's to my darling fair
Here's to my darling
Find myself so calm and yet
So unclear…
I wring the tap dry of water –
My little hill-side source –
And then I'll down a flooded river
In knotted loops and folds
But then I'll simply lie stranded
Like some bloated corpse
Until you rise me up
Till I'm alive again
Find myself so calm and yet
So unclear…
I keep the mustard curtains
From when this house was young
But to me they still shine golden
From one look
From one look from the sun
Take my arms, I feel unrest
No more
Carry me up and away
Our own sum
Our own sum
Our own sum
Our ownsome