I'm standing on this cloud Because this book belongs to you It's filled with all the thoughts and promises I made before I knew Before you told me there's a woman Who threads fire through her hair Whose iceberg eyes are made from stars You forged in holiness and prayer And if the bishops on this chessboard Are right and speak the truth Then I'm off to dwell in darkness I'm not leaving her for you But I'm quite sure you folded glory In the forests of her soul The same way you painted fire In men whose eyes are made of coal So I'm standing on this cloud Because this writing is not mine And while I'll miss your starry buildings I believe her heart's a sign
I just love the imagery in this. “Threads fire through her hair.” Beautiful.
Thank you so much! 🙂
Thank you! 🙂