I am stretched on your grave
|
and will lie there forever
|
if your hands were in mine
|
I'd be sure we'd not sever
|
my apple tree my brightness
|
it's time we were together
|
for I smell of the earth
|
and am worn by the weather
|
|
when my family thinks
|
that I'm safe in my bed
|
from night until morning
|
I am streteched at your head
|
calling out to the air
|
with tears hot and wild
|
my grief for the girl
|
that I loved as a child
|
|
do you remember
|
the night we were lost
|
in the shade of the blackthorn
|
and the chill of the frost
|
thanks be to Jesus
|
we did what was right
|
and your maiden head still
|
is your pillar of light
|
|
the priests and the friars
|
approach me in dread
|
because I still love you
|
my love and you're dead
|
I still would be your shelter
|
through rain and through storm
|
and with you in your cold grave
|
I cannot sleep warm
|
|
so I'm stretched on your grave
|
and will lie there forever
|
if you hands were in mine
|
I'd be sure we'd not sever
|
my apple tree my brightness
|
it's time we were together
|
for I smell of the earth
|
and am worn by the weather.
|
|
-----------------
|
I Am Stretching On Your Grave
|
| Sinead O' Connor |
