cartographist

We'll bathe often in light of the moon We'll sew clothes from the stem of our womb We'll bathe often in light of the moon We'll sew clothes from the stem of our womb Oh, my sweet fairy The past is strong, strong, strong Touch not my bosom for I'll not get far, far Color your cartography in your dreams of me Maps will not lie, will not lie, will not lie in me Grow into gardens, the caverns you found in me Heal off the weightless you held from the start of me Oh, my sweet fairy Our hearts did us wrong But rudders of bodies doth carry us on, on And more moons than our eyes can recount and store Yet they bid that we see the same things Sweet, they bid that we swim in their sea Well then, the amber woods are calling Lie down to keep thy hands from falling Kill them then bury these seeds beneath me Measure thy deeds, in due time harvest Well then, the amber woods are calling Lie down to keep thy hands from falling Kill them then bury these seeds beneath me Measure thy deeds, in due time harvest