83 Songtext
von Christopher Wilson

We hiked the falls, consumed in awe
August of ′83
The hemlocks high
And laurels lie beneath their canopy

What is the meaning of numbers
Tuesdays are your worst
I dreamed of you in white woven linen
And wide open beautiful spaces
The kind for which there's no replacing
Sprawling falls on split rocks that quiver
Our vested love

Countless days, the twelfth of May, and all we knew
Turning tires, turnstiles, no path to choose
The ones that he called babies
The littlest of them all
One who′d keep the blackest sheep
Save the harm


We hiked the falls, exhumed with awe
August of '93
An eddy of patchouli hovers next to me
In wide open beautiful spaces
And you I know there's no replacing
Nestled in the ivy so weathered
The angels, my vanquished love

Count the days, the twelfth of May, and all we knew
Turnstiles, turning backs, those leaden shoes
The ones that he called babies
The biggest of them all
In meadows deep, the blackest sheep, long to belong

83, 83, I flock to you
You are the sunny side of a leaden sky
And it shines right through
The one that he called baby
The littlest of them all
One must keep the blackest sheep
Save the harm
Save the harm
Save the harm