She's a mollusk,
|
a seamstress,
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a princess,
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a priestess,
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a negress,
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she knows her position
|
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She's a swallow,
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a willow,
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a cello,
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a pillow,
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a bow
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and also a physician
|
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She takes your eyes
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and mends your head
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She draws the wine
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and breaks the bread
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She has no lies to tell you
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and no truths to sell you
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She's a girl,
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she's almost a woman
|
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And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
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Spreads her wings like a seagull
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From the mountain he watches her,
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biding his time
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But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
|
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He's a hawthorn,
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a raven,
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a scarecrow,
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a haven
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for moon-blessed thought and opinion
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He will laugh like the fountains,
|
the bones of the mountains
|
lie deep in his forest religion
|
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You will call his name when evening falls
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And the ground sets hard and the night wind calls
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You will feed him and heed him,
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at times you will need him
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Say you were almost his woman
|
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And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
|
Spreads her wings like a seagull
|
From the mountain he watches her,
|
biding his time
|
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
|
|
In the shuddering mad red blood-let sunset
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a tired man is leaving his cover
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And the soft eyes of Zero
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are cut by the sounds
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of the vanishing feet of her lover
|
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And the door slams shut
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and the air grows tight
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And her throat is gripped
|
by the hands of night
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And all that is left
|
is the clock on the shelf
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As it ticks one day into another
|
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And Zero she sighs as the morning dies
|
With the broken wings of a seagull
|
From the mountain he watches her, sensing his time
|
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
|
|
At the pall of the day the man of the mountain
|
is nearing the end of his travel
|
And the fence is down
|
on the westland bounds
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and a footfall pounds in the gravel
|
|
Comes a knock three times
|
and the air grows still
|
As he steps inside from the sudden chill
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And the moment is caught in the net of the night
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For the coming of dawn to unravel
|
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And Zero she flies as the morning sighs
|
Spreads her wings like a seagull
|
From the mountain he's coming,
|
judging his time
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And his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
|
|
Oh Zero she flies as the morning dies
|
Spreads her wings like a seagull
|
From her window he watches her,
|
a man in his time
|
But his eyes are the eyes of an eagle
|
|
-----------------
|
Zero She Flies
|
| Al Stewart |
