a child from the river the songs that you sing a tall glass of water you was a pretty young thang the heat of the summer you carried me here my heart on your shoulder til it disappeared the dark and the fighting the longing then dying the loving believing returned and returning to me the house on the hill he did pause on the stairs the room that you layed in the smell of your hair a lifetimes too timely but im glad you did find me return and returning but not to me the pull of the ocean the length of the day my head on your shoulder its cold when i wake the night in its whispers the roll of the clay the way you did love me is all i can thank