The echoes of paradise still ring
memories of a place I've never been
from the garden they were thrown
still trying to find my way back home again, again, again.
You went missing years and years ago
and where you've gone I could never know
I've seen your face a thousand times
but never in the New York Times, oh no, oh no, oh no.
The mountains loomed so large out there
when I was breathing in the desert air
I would call to apologize
and to forgive your lies but you don't care, don't care, don't care.
I'm happier than I was before
since she walked through my front door
but here's a great mystery
that the shape of you is still in me, oh, oh, oh.
She is sleeping now so whisper
but when she wakes I will kiss her
in the noon and twilight times
I will sing in broken rhymes for her, for her, for her.
I wrote this song as I was delivering packages yesterday afternoon - on Forgiveness Sunday (also known as Cheesefare Sunday in the Orthodox Church) - the last Sunday before lent.
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