love is a tired symphony
you hum when you’re awake
and love is a crying baby
mama warned you not to shake
and love’s the best sensation
hiding in the lion’s mane

so I’ll clear the road, the gravel
and the thorn-bush in your path
that burns a scented oil
that I’ll drip into your bath
the water’s there to warm you
and the earth is warmer when you laugh

and love is the scene i render
when you catch me wide awake
and love is the dream you enter
though i shake and shake and shake you
and love’s the best endeavor
waiting in the lion’s mane

I saw rainclouds, little babies, and a bridge that had tumbled to the ground.
I saw sinners making music… how I dreamt of that sound, dreamt of that sound.

I saw lovers in a window, whisper, “Want me like time, want me like time.”

I saw sickness bloom in fruit trees.
I saw blood and a bit of it was mine. 

Saw a white dog chase it’s tail, and a pair of hearts carved into a stone.

I saw kindness and an angel crying, “Take me back home, take me back home.” 

Dreamless sleep will fall like a deep, poisoned well on the steeple birds and this red-light hotel.

So lay your pistol down, Granny.
The company men never came to you.
But don’t unknit your brow, Granny, the mice in the yard ate the potted plants you grew.

Pour your bitter tea for our sweet, liquored host.
Perfect polished stones but this breeze beats you both.

So lay your pistol down, Granny.
The duty of men never fell to you.
When you unknit your brow, Granny…

Your friends, they are jewels, twice as beautiful and few.

Love is a tired symphony you hum when you’re awake,
and, love is a crying baby Mama warned you not to shake.

And love’s the best sensation hiding in the lion’s mane.

So I’ll clear the road, the gravel, and the thornbush in your path; burn a scented oil that I’ll drip into your bath.

The water’s there to warm you, and the earth is warmer when you laugh.

And love is the scene I render when you catch me wide awake,
and, love is the dream you enter though I shake and shake and shake you.

And love is the best endeavor waiting in the lion’s mane.

Talk of yesterday and she will show her brothers photographed in callous clothes.

 
Say tommorow and she’ll say, “Come find me on a beach, and there will no moon.”

 
But say today, and she will kiss your face… and maybe forget.

Talk of yesterday like bargain shoe strings; she will kick the car and find her friends.

Say tommorow and then she’ll describe some old communion cups, and someone’s coat.

But say today and she may look your way…and lead you home.