A Swallow Song
Since I cannot come to you
And you may not come to me,
Words must go where I would be,
And do what I would do.
And you may not come to me,
Words must go where I would be,
And do what I would do.
Happy, happy little words!
They will touch your finger tips,
And flutter at your pretty lips,
A flock of singing birds.
They will touch your finger tips,
And flutter at your pretty lips,
A flock of singing birds.
They will see your face all day,
Steal into your dreams at night,
Safe beneath your pillow white,
While I am far away.
Steal into your dreams at night,
Safe beneath your pillow white,
While I am far away.
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