There is light in my lady’s house And there’s none but some falling rain This like a spoken word She is more than her thousand names No hands are half as gentle Or firm as they like to be Thank God you see me the way you do Strange as you are to me It is good in my lady's house And the shape that her body makes Love is a fragile word In the air on the wrinkly lane No hands are half as gentle Or firm as they like to be Thank God you see me the way you do Strange as you are to me
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