My great-grandmother was a magic weaver,
came across the water and caught a fish.
Wondered if her mother could hear her when
she sang the words she learned to say.
In the blue clementine shop, shimmering still,
Dame Colonna, Lord Lady of the Hills.
Cup of cold sun and a winter pill,
send me back on my way.
Seven black rabbits of high Brazil,
21 petals of daffodils,
13 notes of the black-haired
trill, I'll fly home today.
Down in the cradle,
oh,
I would hear her as I breathed my soul,
believed if I sang those
words,
I could leave there,
leave my sorrow and pain.
In the blue clementine shop, shimmering still,
Dame Colonna, Lord Lady of the Hills.
Cup of cold sun and a winter pill,
send me back on my way.
Seven black rabbits of high Brazil,
21 petals of daffodils,
13 notes of the black-haired trill,
I'll fly home today.
Though my brittle body was caught in a snare,
my soul would learn how to travel where the eyes of the
rabbits were gleaming there on the isle of high Brazil.
Seven years we drown,
seven years we rise,
said the black rabbit with the ancient eyes,
you'll be free, oh, Loura,
like he cannot match your will.
In the blue
clementine shop, shimmering still,
Dame Colonna,
Lord Lady of the Hills.
Cup of cold sun and a winter pill,
send me back on my way.
Seven black rabbits of high Brazil,
21
petals of daffodils,
13 notes of the black-haired
trill,
I'll fly home today.
Though I drowned for ten years,
I'm still rising,
stronger for my pain and suffering,
my body was broken but my heart's reborn,
I'm freer than the sky.
In the blue clementine shop, shimmering still,
Dame Colonna, Lord Lady of the Hills.
Cup of cold sun and a winter pill,
send me back on my way.
Seven black rabbits of high Brazil,
21 petals of daffodils,
13 notes of the black-haired trill,
I'll fly home today.