paroles de chanson Waltz of the 101st Lightborne - Joanna Newsom
I
believed
they
had
got
what
they
came
for;
I
believed
our
peril
was
done,
On
the
eve
of
the
last
of
the
Great
Wars,
After
three
we
had
narrowly
won.
(But
the
fourth,
It
was
carelessly
done.)
I
saw
his
ship
in
it′s
whistling
ascension,
As
they
launched
from
the
Capitol
seat–
Swear
i
saw
our
mistake
When
the
clouds
draped
like
a
flag,
Across
the
backs
of
the
fleet
Of
the
Hundred-First
Lightborne
Elite.
As
the
day
is
long,
So
the
well
runs
dry,
And
we
came
to
see
Time
is
taller
Than
Space
is
wide.
And
we
bade
goodbye
To
the
Great
Divide:
Found
unlimited
simulacreage
to
colonize!
But
there
was
a
time
we
were
lashed
to
the
prow
Of
a
ship
you
may
board,
but
not
steer,
Before
You
and
I
ceased
to
mean
Now,
And
began
to
mean
only
Right
Here
(To
mean
Inches
and
Miles,
but
not
Years);
Before
Space
has
a
taste
of
its
limits,
And
a
new
sort
of
coordinate
awoke,
Making
Time
just
another
poor
tenant:
Bearing
weight,
taking
fire,
trading
smokes,
In
the
war
between
us
and
our
ghosts.
(But
i
saw
the
Bering
Strait
and
the
Golden
Gate,
In
silent
suspension
of
their
golden
age!
And
you
can
barely
tell,
if
I
guard
it
well,
Where
I
have
been,
and
seen,
Pristine,
unfelled.)
I
had
a
dream
that
i
walked
in
the
garden
Of
Chabot,
and
those
telescope
ruins.
It
was
there
that
I
called
to
my
true
love,
Who
was
pale
as
millennial
moons,
Honey,
where
did
you
come
by
that
wound?
When
i
woke,
he
was
gone
And
the
War
had
begun,
In
eternal
return
and
repeat.
Calling,
Where
in
the
hell
are
the
rest
of
your
fellow
One
Hundred-One
Lightborne
Elite?
Stormed
in
the
New
Highland
Light
Infantry.
Make
it
stop,
my
love!
We
were
wrong
to
try.
Never
saw
what
we
could
unravel,
In
traveling
light,
Nor
how
the
trip
debrides–
Like
a
stack
of
slides!
All
we
saw
was
that
Time
is
taller
than
Space
is
wide
That's
why
we
are
bound
to
a
round
desert
island,
′Neath
the
sky
where
our
sailors
have
gone.
Have
they
drowned,
in
those
windy
highlands?
Highlands
away,
my
John.
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