birth in a quiet valley

we've baked and bleached in the burning sand,
been robbed in the markets of Bang-kok
we buried our keel in the shoals off Singapore
and derailed our train in Berlin

hell, we've raised, and tasted its sulphur
as we filled our purse with mistakes
come here, sweet thing, and lie with me
and i'll lie to you til i'm gone

hands we took in treacherous grasp
while fingers crossed our painted kisses
oh! the songs we sang to the great blue northern
that shook its head in mournful disdain

oh grey moon, you're mine, you're mine!
as if saying it made it so
and the river too, it spoke to us
til we silenced it still with our wisdom

we held the bird in twisted grip
pretending we lived within
but to the trees that shook with shame
it flew to pray for rain

so come with me, let's pitch our tent
to quiet the rage that roars
let's carry our wings to the valley floor
begin with streams and butterflies,
the tender grass we'll nest upon
is the birth we missed before