Cartographist

We'll bathe often in light of the moon
We'll sew clothes from the stem of our womb
We'll bathe often in light of the moon
We'll sew clothes from the stem of our womb

Oh my sweet fairy the past is strong
Touch not my bosom for I'll not get far

Color your cartography in your dreams of me
Maps will not lie, will not lie, will not lie in me

Grow into gardens, the caverns you found in me
Heal of the weightless you held from the start of me

Oh my sweet fairy our hearts did us wrong
But rudders of body's doth carry us on
And more moons than our eyes can recount and store

Yet they did that we see the same things
Sweet they bid that we swim in their seas

Well then, the amber woods are calling
Lie down to keep thy hands from falling
Kill them then bury seeds beneath me
Measure thy deeds, in due time harvest
Well then, the amber woods are calling
Lie down to keep thy hands from falling
Kill them then bury seeds beneath me
Measure thy deeds, in due time harvest