Village

Well he started out as an accident Nine months of labor and toil And he entered the light with open eyes, A loving face, a warm breast, Before his feet even hit the soil... A loving face, a warm breast, Before his feet even hit the soil... He’d sit for hours in the grass Watching the sun light the seeds They were planes and ships on magical trips Tiny parachutes on the breeze And the fingers of light pulled down the night Through his window, the town went to sleep And the dance of the colors winking to life Gave him dreams and musical themes Treasures and tales for keeps; They gave him dreams and musical themes Treasures and tales for keeps. Oh, it’s a fertile soil and a loving breast And lights to light your way, Oh, it’s floating ships launched by tiny lips Blowing dandelions all day. And at night, oh the village sleeps But everybody keeps a candle burning bright His village on the hill... It’s still shining through this night. Sometimes these days he forgets his name And his feet don’t touch the ground Or a coldness steals his heart away And the wind makes a lonesome sound But there’s a deeper place—a stronger grace Where the lights and the music are stored And when he shuts his eyes to listen close Deep inside, like a rising tide A calling that can’t be denied Deep inside there’s a roaring tide A calling that can’t be denied. Oh, it’s a fertile soil and a loving breast And lights to light your way, Oh, it’s floating ships launched by tiny lips Blowing dandelions all day. And at night, oh the village sleeps But everybody keeps a candle burning bright His village on the hill... It’s still shining through this night.