The bird that plucked the Olive Leaf
Has been circling like a record never-ending in my mind
Where the needle's worn the grooves too deep,
And scratched the wax that's blistered from the heat besides
So from any movement in the room-
If my cat walked by the arm skipped!
But to my surprise, my interrupting cat improved
A sound already so severely compromised
The needle's worn the grooves too deep
I'm a donkey's jaw on a desert dune
Beside the bush that Moses saw
That burned and yet was not consumed
She's the silver coin I lost,
I'm the sheep who slipped away
We pray the fingers crossed
But you listen patiently anyway
I wrote a little song for you
With a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme
To repeat what you already knew
As the stones thrown at your window tapped a syncopated time
You kept a distance out of fear you'd break
But what good's a single windchime, hanging quiet all alone?
The music our collisions would make
Is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home
Into Home.
The music our collisions make!
I had a rusty spade but I'm not the fighting sort
If I was Samson I'd have found that harlot's blade
And cut my own hair short!
Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay
You see my coins are counterfeit
But accept them anyway
So spare me your goodbyes,
Your waving-handkerchief-good-byes
Given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side
I'll spare you my goodbyes,
The truth belongs to G-d,
The mistakes were mine
mewithoutYou - In A Market Dimly Lit Lyrics
mewithoutYou - In A Market Dimly Lit Lyrics
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The bird that plucked the Olive Leaf
Has been circling like a record never-ending in my mind
Where the needle's worn the grooves too deep,
And scratched the wax that's blistered from the heat besides
So from any movement in the room-
If my cat walked by the arm skipped!
But to my surprise, my interrupting cat improved
A sound already so severely compromised
The needle's worn the grooves too deep
I'm a donkey's jaw on a desert dune
Beside the bush that Moses saw
That burned and yet was not consumed
She's the silver coin I lost,
I'm the sheep who slipped away
We pray the fingers crossed
But you listen patiently anyway
I wrote a little song for you
With a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme
To repeat what you already knew
As the stones thrown at your window tapped a syncopated time
You kept a distance out of fear you'd break
But what good's a single windchime, hanging quiet all alone?
The music our collisions would make
Is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home
Into Home.
The music our collisions make!
I had a rusty spade but I'm not the fighting sort
If I was Samson I'd have found that harlot's blade
And cut my own hair short!
Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay
You see my coins are counterfeit
But accept them anyway
So spare me your goodbyes,
Your waving-handkerchief-good-byes
Given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side
I'll spare you my goodbyes,
The truth belongs to G-d,
The mistakes were mine
Has been circling like a record never-ending in my mind
Where the needle's worn the grooves too deep,
And scratched the wax that's blistered from the heat besides
So from any movement in the room-
If my cat walked by the arm skipped!
But to my surprise, my interrupting cat improved
A sound already so severely compromised
The needle's worn the grooves too deep
I'm a donkey's jaw on a desert dune
Beside the bush that Moses saw
That burned and yet was not consumed
She's the silver coin I lost,
I'm the sheep who slipped away
We pray the fingers crossed
But you listen patiently anyway
I wrote a little song for you
With a melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme
To repeat what you already knew
As the stones thrown at your window tapped a syncopated time
You kept a distance out of fear you'd break
But what good's a single windchime, hanging quiet all alone?
The music our collisions would make
Is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home
Into Home.
The music our collisions make!
I had a rusty spade but I'm not the fighting sort
If I was Samson I'd have found that harlot's blade
And cut my own hair short!
Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay
You see my coins are counterfeit
But accept them anyway
So spare me your goodbyes,
Your waving-handkerchief-good-byes
Given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side
I'll spare you my goodbyes,
The truth belongs to G-d,
The mistakes were mine