|
Martha, she listens for the ticking of my footsteps, patiently |
|
She sifts the hairy air that's worn and wood-swept, pleasantly |
|
She does as she pleases, she listens for me |
|
Martha, she calls to me from a feather in the meadow, "Fly to me" |
|
You can dance and sing and walk with me |
|
And dreams will fade and shadows grow in me |
|
She does as she pleases, she waits there for me |
|
She does as she pleases, her heels rise for me |
|
My love, she talks to waking windows |
|
As she murmurs to her feet, thoughtfully |
|
She separates in laughter to my side, caught for me |
|
She does as she pleases, she waits there for me |
|
She does as she pleases, her heels rise for me |
|
Martha, she keeps her heart in a broken clock and it's waiting there for me |
|
She weaves apart through a token lock, what a great thing to be free |
|
She weeps, tired and starts unspoken |
|
But when the gate swings there she'll be, there she'll be |
|
In green sun, on blue earth, under warm running shower |
