She sat in her garden in an old pair of jeans
and she smiled at the sun and the pale olive trees.
She wiped the dirt from her hands as she stood up to leave
and the earth opened up and she was taken from me.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the rain fills my shoes,
when I'm lost in the wind, when I'm wet with the blues,
when my head's in the clouds, when my toes touch the sand,
when the sun stains the skin where you once held my hand...
She fell through the earth that she cared for so well
and she smiled at the flowers and they wept as she fell
and with a groan and a sigh, the earth closed up again
and she was gone where she'd gone; she was gone from me then.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the songbirds fly south
(of your ghostly-white arms and your apple-red mouth),
when the branches bend down, when the leaves breathe their last,
when the moon sheathes the sun in the shadow she cast...
They closed off her garden with bright yellow tape
and they kept out the press and they padlocked the gate
and they drew a chalk outline where her last seed was sown
and the seed took its root and the earth grew a stone.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the fire won't start,
when the frost owns the night like you once owned my heart,
when the day drinks the dew, when the sun settles in,
when the dewdrops dry up, when the frost comes again...
Down below, the dust settled and they gave her a crown
and a garden of gravel and a grey wedding gown
and she smiled at the cypress, so cold and so fair
and she tilled the scorched earth and they worshipped her there.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the red rooster cries,
when the dawn greets the dark; when the last sunset dies,
will I see you again where the sky meets the sea
when the earth turns at last, when the earth swallows me...?
and she smiled at the sun and the pale olive trees.
She wiped the dirt from her hands as she stood up to leave
and the earth opened up and she was taken from me.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the rain fills my shoes,
when I'm lost in the wind, when I'm wet with the blues,
when my head's in the clouds, when my toes touch the sand,
when the sun stains the skin where you once held my hand...
She fell through the earth that she cared for so well
and she smiled at the flowers and they wept as she fell
and with a groan and a sigh, the earth closed up again
and she was gone where she'd gone; she was gone from me then.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the songbirds fly south
(of your ghostly-white arms and your apple-red mouth),
when the branches bend down, when the leaves breathe their last,
when the moon sheathes the sun in the shadow she cast...
They closed off her garden with bright yellow tape
and they kept out the press and they padlocked the gate
and they drew a chalk outline where her last seed was sown
and the seed took its root and the earth grew a stone.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the fire won't start,
when the frost owns the night like you once owned my heart,
when the day drinks the dew, when the sun settles in,
when the dewdrops dry up, when the frost comes again...
Down below, the dust settled and they gave her a crown
and a garden of gravel and a grey wedding gown
and she smiled at the cypress, so cold and so fair
and she tilled the scorched earth and they worshipped her there.
Oh, and I'll think of you when the red rooster cries,
when the dawn greets the dark; when the last sunset dies,
will I see you again where the sky meets the sea
when the earth turns at last, when the earth swallows me...?
