I’m made of bones, of the branches, the boughs and the brow-beating light
While my feet are the trunks and my head is the canopy high
And my fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves and the bright
Brightest shine
It’s my shine
And he was a baby abandoned, entombed in a cradle of clay
And I was the soul who took pity and stole him away
And gave him the form of a fawn to inhabit by day
Brightest day
It’s my day
And you have removed this temptation that’s troubled my innocent child
To abduct and abuse and to render her rift and defiled
But the river is deep to the banks and the water is wild
I will fly you to the far side