Hugh Blumenfeld Talking Island
She is the sugar of the islands She is the coffee in the hills She is the harvest of the vineyard She is the river where it spills Into the canyon She is the ocean where it swells She is the flashing on the water She is the roaring in the shells That says I know you Though I am ancient deaf and blind I am a simple act of kindness In a world that is unkind And unforgiving Like the storm that grinds the stones And at night among the shadows Conducts the bleaching of the bones And sucks the morrow And leaves them staring from the ground And the feeling the feeling that you're hollow Is just the trumpet before it sounds O you Islands.... Copyright 1995, Hugh Blumenfeld / Hydrogen Jukebox Music
