(Anderson/Howe)
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A seasoned witch could call you from the depths of your disgrace,
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And rearrange your liver to the solid mental grace,
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And achieve it all with music that came quickly from afar,
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Then taste the fruit of man recorded losing all against the hour.
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And assessing points to nowhere, leading ev'ry single one.
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A dewdrop can exalt us like the music of the sun,
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And take away the plain in which we move,
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And choose the course you're running.
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Down at the edge, round by the corner,
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Not right away, not right away.
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Close to the edge, down by a river,
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Not right away, not right away.
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Crossed the line around the changes of the summer,
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Reaching to call the color of the sky.
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Passed around a moment clothed in mornings faster than we see.
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Getting over all the time I had to worry,
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Leaving all the changes far from far behind.
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We relieve the tension only too find out the master's name.
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Down at the end, round by the corner.
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Close to the edge, just by a river.
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Seasons will pass you by.
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I get up, I get down.
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Now that it's all over and done,
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Now that you find, now that you're whole.
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Close To The Edge I: The Solid Time Of Change
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| Yes |
