A long time ago

I turned to myself

And said, "You are my daughter."



I saw that image

I saw there was well

"So you are my daughter."



Well, then maybe we've got

Something to talk about

Who told you so?

That gold burns slow

Like coal camper's candles

All lost in the snow



Lay down, you're on

The warmth that I'm weaving

Is for you alone

Up on the sun



Where it never rains or snows

There's an ocean

With a wind that never blows

And if you see it closer

Then the finer points will show

Not to much more

Too much more

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