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• Artiste: Peasant Dramatic (The)
• Titre: Every Angel
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If I were tossed like Cynthia Upon the neck of every flying angel Sad and black against The clean and crying north I would do anything you asked of me Arrange your dying peonies And bury your philosophy Your melancholy sunny sea And if I moved below the ground My fingers dry and oh so loud I'd bleed from every thorn before I'd let a single roof fall down And if the dusty sorrow had been spent I'd build a cradle Green and sturdy from my body And the sounds that make the nothing burn away There is a face inside your face Which nobody but me has ever seen It sparks to life inside the light When you turn round But now you're hiding all your hymnal leaves And riding very carefully And growing like a symphony And wondering what to ask of me Among the shells beside the sea The bones of birds and old birch trees Protected by my jealousy And grasping oh so greedily Sweet freedom is your enemy And I hear you crying down your throat Sister there's such a long way to go Now your spirits are all asleep But I was born to live inside you I have wings and hands to hide you Never need to look before you leap I trusted in your honesty I felt a rush of sympathy I blamed it on my misery And begged you to enamor me But I am not what you assumed I watch the sickly garden bloom And I'm no man inside the moon With lightning carving out my tomb For me to lay inside, at rest With crystal skies and uncut grass And all my brothers spinning round so fast I'll love them 'til I'm still at last And I hear you crying down your throat Sister there's such a long way to go Now your spirits are all asleep But I was born to live inside you I have wings and hands to hide you Never need to look before you leap Now that your spirits are all asleep