So these things will grow
|
Faster when we¡¯re cold
|
It¡¯s slow love
|
|
Every mercy¡¯s new
|
When we¡¯re worn and used
|
It¡¯s slow love
|
|
Like beggars in the greying morning
|
These needful hands are reaching for you
|
We¡¯re beggars bought by suffered gold
|
We want what little love we hold
|
|
So these plans will fall through
|
When the years build on you
|
But there¡¯ll be slow love
|
|
Cause we are broke and older
|
Numbed and stumbling over your love
|
|
We want what little love is slow
|
|
-----------------
|
Greying Morning
|
| Falling Up |
