Swedish Purse (Master) - 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
