Where the wild roses grow
A perfect Indian is he
Remembering him life is sweet
Like a weeping willow
His face on my pillow
Comes to me still in my dreams
And there I saw a young baby
A beautiful daughter was she
A face from a painting
Red cheeks and teeth aching
Here yes like a wild Irish sea
On the table in her yellow dress
For a photograph feigned happiness
Why in my life is that the only time
That any of u will smile at me
I’m sailing on this terrible ocean
I’ve come for myself to retrieve
Too long have I been feeling like Lir’s children
And there’s only one way to be free
He’s shy and he speaks quietly
He’s gentle and he seems to me
Like the elf-arrow
His face worn and harrowed
Is head a y dreamer like me
I’m sailing on this terrible ocean
I’ve come for myself to retrieve
Too long have I been feeling like Lir’s children
And there’s only one way to be free
