Lyrics:
window and down across my sight lines
to the river where the evening thrush resides
along the water winding through woods and open fields
my imagination
water
Roots grow deep in the spring
Soon I'll return there
Oh when the thrush knocks
Listen for the calling of home
Carried far by the air
Blood is
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood of the wind,
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The knot of the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The knot of the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms / , a fox in the brush /
The knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The will of the wind
Oh how sweet 'tis to roam
By the sunny Suir stream
And to hear the dove coo
'neath the morning sunbeam
Where the thrush and the robin
Their sweet
Oh how sweet 'tis to roam
By the Suir's lovely stream
And to hear the birds coo
'neath the morning sunbeams
Where the thrush and the robin
Their
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush
Oh, how sweet 'tis to roam by the sunny Shure stream
And hear the doves coo 'neath the morning sunbeam
Where the thrush and the robin their sweet
it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
The knot in the wood
The song of the thrush
The wood of the wind
A cliff,
A slit throat makes a note like a raw winter wind.
We were piled in the river with the rock and roll skinned.
Like the water loves lapping at the skin
How pleasant to roam by the sunny Suir stream
To hear the birds sing
'Neath the morning sunbeam
Where the thrush and the robin
Their sweet notes
yours
In the last of my dream
I was back in her house
There were letters the whole counter long
And the water was hot
And the granite was not
And the face
singing,
wren, redbird, pretty quick quick,
the wood thrush hymns,
and the apple tree answers.
Red ball, in the rising smoke,
breakfast out on the porch,
makes river water
and that a promise
is only will
Your cheeks are no longer petals of salt
your smile is no rattle nor thrush
evil can last over
and three of some
And two to make a home
Here's a limb that's close to breaking
Which sort of feels like hope
Then the wailing duck the hooded thrush
could only dream to rise one day
Leaves a rustling
The Thrush is scuffling
The wind is gliding through the foliage
There to block the light out
Standing
I don't want to wait
Until the spring
Until the clouds roll away
And the hermit thrush sings
And I'd rather not wait
Until we think we have a clue
Beauty things sing to me
As a chorus
As a flock the wild seas
Sway before us
Hail as a hand is my mail
The thrush is my love
And the whale is
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