I’m made of bones of the branches, the boughs, and the browbeating light
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While my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy, high
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And my fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves and the bright,
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Bright and shine, it’s my shine
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And he was a baby, abandoned, entombed in a cradle of clay
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And I was the soul who took pity and stole him away
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And gave him the form of a faun to inhabit by day
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Bright as day
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It’s my day
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And you
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Have removed this temptation that’s troubled my innocent child
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To abduct and abuse and to render arift and defiled
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But the river is deep to the banks
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And the water is wild
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I will fly you
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To the far side
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The Queen's Rebuke / The Crossing
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| The Decemberists |
