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Wild Mountain Thyme

de Christy Moore

Sit by my side come as close as the air
Sharing a memory of grey,
Wander in my world
And dream about the pictures I play, of changes.

Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall
To brown and to yellow they fade.
Then they have to die
And drop within the circle grand parade of changes.

Scenes of my young years are warm in my mind
Visions of shadows that shine,
'Til one day I return and find
They were the victims of the vines of changes.

The world is spinning madly adrift in the dark
It swings through a hollow of haze,
A race around the stars
A journey through the universe ablaze with changes.

Moments of magic will glow through the night
All fears of the forest are gone.
When the morning breaks
They're swept away like golden drops of dawn by changes.

Oceans will part to a strange melody
As fires will sometimes burn cold.
Like water in the wind
We are puppets to the silver strings of changes.

Our tears will be trembling when we are somewhere else
One last cup of wine we will pour.
I'll kiss you one more time
And leave you on the rolling river shore of changes.

Sit by my side come as close as the air
Sharing a memory of grey,
Wander in my world
And dream about the pictures I play, of changes.

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