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 (strong, strong)
Touch not my bosom for I'll not get far (far)
Colour 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
Peel off the weightless, you held from the start of me

Oh, my sweet fairy, our hearts did us wrong
But rudders of bodies doth carry us on (on)
And more moons than our eyes can recount and store
Yet they bid that we see the same things
Sweet they bid that we swim in their seas
(They bid that we swim in their seas)
(They bid that we swim in their seas)
(They bid that we swim in their seas)
(They bid that we swim in their seas)
(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