Swedish Purse - Wovenhand

Falling from her braided hair

New morning on the stereo

Close together on the page

We live it down

She has made place for me And life for those our children

Sewn into her swedish purse

I think upon these things

Chosen by candlelight

As great trees have fallen

Quietly and to herself

This is my language

Again I am away at sea

Looked upon with sharp eyes

Father how far am I It seems forever as the crow flies

Again I am away at sea

Tossed about under a mean sky

Lord how far am I How far am I