If you were a carpenter, your hands to the grain If you'd stayed a stranger and I'd never learned your name If you were a creature of make believe If you were the shades of colors my eyes cannot see I never would have known what you could have meant to me If you were a mason, your body over stone If you were a garden with myrtle overgrown If you were the walls that purposed the room If you were a prism with the light pa**ing through I never would have known what you could have meant to me If you were a child, born new into the day If you were the dreamcatcher above the bed I make If you were immortal, with no concern for age If you were the northern hills that knew not rapid pace I never would have known what you could have meant to me