Making Dens
(Indisponível)
I have a plane
One of the few with roundels on its wings
A lullaby for me and you
When it flies high, it sings
Rock me to sleep with que sera
Dear Mum do you suppose?
As I feel my eyelids close
The other side is not so far
I dug a hole under the ground
Made myself a den
It's there that I can be found
Not if you return but when
There's a place, a place called hell
I've spent some time there
In the dark I cast a spell
To bury all of my fears
Oh Dymphna! Oh Dymphna! Oh Dymphna!
I would that I could spell your name
Once I fell from a great height
"Are you ready? I've come for you"
A voice spoke from a pool of light
"Not yet" I said, "I've got some things to do"
All this time I've been making dens
And I'm still making them now
I know, I know I can never make amends
But I've got to reach you somehow
I can tie the laces of my own shoes
And I can count up to 32
Oh Dymphna! Oh Dymphna! Oh Dymphna!
I would that I could spell your name
I'm sorry, there are so few words
One day I ran out
And I waited a long time - they never came back
I see you often in everyday places
And I want to call out but I can't find the words
I can't find the words
I can't find the words
They won't come.
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