My wooden vibrating mouth

Sing me your lover's song

Come with me we'll head up north 

Where the rivers run icy and strong



The empty theater is lying cold

In the shadows of the past

A church group enters to touch the molding

With a burst of song and a simple repast



Guitars can't help but sing

Can't help but ring



A tiny little flute is whistling in the lips

Of a stranger on the corner

A tiny little girl ties flowers to her wrists

And the bees come round to adorn her



All the time spent dreaming is never lost

Dreams come back through the bells of trumpeting horns

Souls lost into the ether of death

Come back wise in the eyes and the arms of newborns



Hearts can't help but sing

Can't help but ring