Bison
The Woodcutter's Son
Out in the woodsBeyond the fieldsIn a cottage made from tinLives a manAnd with his latheHe would carve the facesOf people he knew on the shoreOf people that he knew beforeHe surrendered himself to the tradeFell in love with the ones he’d createTwas the Woodcutter’s SonHe fiddled awayWith the friends that he madeThen he’d place them on the shelfOne by oneGiving them namesOf distant placesWhere he had experienced loveFrom ones had no memory ofFrom ones he had known long agoWhose cradles and lamp stands he’d knownTwas the Woodcutter’s Son
From Letras Mania