Martha Tilston Fire Wood
Thick, thick fog is rolling in.
I'm invisible.
I like it a lot here.
All the lights on the ships are barely breaking through.
My God, it's beautiful.
What is this I'm going through?
I may be gone for a while
I think I'll go for a while.
I must away for a while,
Collecting fire wood.
When I return my arms will be full.
When I return my arms will be full.
When I return my arms will be full
Of fire wood,
Of fire wood.
I'll only be gone for a while.
I need to find my smile.
When I return my arms will be full
Of fire wood,
Of fire wood.
