a long time ago I turned to myself and said, 'you are my daughter' I saw that the image I saw there was well, 'so you are my daughter' well then we've got something to talk about who told you so? that gold burns slow like coal camper's candles all lost in the snow lay down you're on the warmth that I'm weaving is for you alone up on the sun where it never rains or snows there's an ocean with a wind that never blows and if you see it closer then the finer points will show not too much more too much more