(Nicky Mehta)
|
|
The wind howls 'cross the ice floes
|
Send the frozen snow skimming
|
A river on a river hardened over
|
It doesn't know the way it's going
|
Is it north or south or westward
|
It just glides across the shoreline 'til it's over
|
|
You came for me in fast forward
|
On a claim for something ordered
|
A way through and past the history that held you
|
I'd tell my own story through you
|
Tell it loud to never lose you
|
A moth caught be the flame it could cannot measure
|
And there we go again, wishing something bolder
|
Trying to push and pull inside this moment
|
Trying to mold this life within our hands
|
|
This is where the whole world keeps on turning
|
This is where we come undone...undone
|
|
Will they measure me by branches
|
Count the rings and take my ashes
|
Mark the ground where I fell and carry on
|
Or will we bite against the silence
|
Fill our days with noise and violence
|
Not recognize our hearts when we are done
|
|
There we'll go again wishing something bolder
|
Trying to push and pull inside this moment
|
Trying to mold this life within our hands
|
|
This is where the whole world keeps on turning
|
This is where we come undone
|
|
We don't know where it's going
|
Is it north or south or westward
|
|
-----------------
|
This Is Where
|
The Wailin' Jennys |