These are the paths and secret ways / you follow down deep in a dream of days / the lullabies you sing in your sleep / to the woodland creatures who glide and creep / in a shiver of leaves and scatter of stones / flare of feather, flash of bone / falling by moonlight, fetched by crows / to weave into spells in the trees and the hedgerows / rising, calling, settling still

at the edge of the drop on broken tree hill

So you dance with the sun and you drift with the rain / and you lose yourself in the woods again / twist of thorn, pulse of blood / beetled bone and motherhood / tooth and eye and claw and wing / death to life encircling / the watchful night, the waiting dark / the feral rub, the sudden bark / calling you on through your dreams until

you wake at the foot of broken tree hill


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