|
|
1993 |
1. | All Roads to the River |
2. | |
3. | Tattoo |
4. | Guess You Had to Be There |
5. | What About the Love? |
6. | His Hands |
7. | Walking on Sacred Ground |
8. | This Train Still Runs |
9. | Through the Years |
10. | This House |
11. | Some People's Lives |
12. | |
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
hide me in your hollows
taste the salt that clings to me
shipwrecked in your shadows
sanctify the sea
hide me in the wisdom of your thighs
ride me like a wave
chart my secret places
navigate my shores
map the oceans traces
lick them from my pores
drown me in delusion and desire
ride me like a wave
cover me in spray
promise you will stay
I remember mornings waking by your side
your scent on the pillow, fever in your eyes
cast upon the waters, shipless I surrender
lead me to your harbour
cover me in splendor
drown me in delusion and desire
ride me like a wave
(cover me in spray)
other seas will call you...
farther shores will shine
tempt you with their treasures
bordering to mine
still the safest harbor will be mine
ride me like a wave
ride me like a wave
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
Guess You Had to Be There |
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
|
. . .
|
|
Breaking Silence
Come into my solitude
tho i weary be
COme into my tenderness
dream along with me
listen to the wispers sing
listen to the singers shout
come into my solitude
me and my big mouth
thoughts unspoken thoughts unsaid
lies of hearth and home
children broken on the bed and left to lie alone
things you talk around
scum you chock on down
come into my solitude
step on sacred ground
we were speaking
of values and violence
breaking silence
fathers who are lovers to the daughters that they own
mothers who dont leave a child in a single saftey zone
people so unhinged, that death is much to kind
come into my solitude, step over that line
thought i was the only one
thought i was the only one
thought i was the only
thought i was the only
only one
breaking silence
come into my solitude
welcome to the wheel
come into this wonderland
of wounds that will not heal
walls that do not speak
steps that do not sound
come into my solitude
burn this building down
. . .
|
|
Switch to English 