Though I stood on several mountains And slept between the fountains of your web Though I'm strangled and entangled And captured in the dangling of your threads There is nothing left but silence No call at all for violence Like a shadow on the run When I've seen the winds blow crazy Watch lovers lost and lazy through the dawn When I've broken you deserting And spoken though the curtains of a song There is nothing left but pictures And time worn crazy mixtures From your gentle wandering ways I climbed up cathedral towers And listen to the hours tolling by As we talked by glinting candles In endless city ramblings of the sky There is nothing left but faces Empty shattered traces From your gentle wandering ways I stepped over many chasms And floundered in the fathoms of your wake Since I running through the spanning Unused to all the fanning of your traits There is nothing left to be one In the pageants of the sun And your gentle wandering ways