Song Lyrics
My white canoe, so i walk a river that darkly rolls Aesma, for love is the breath of the soul set free
like the silvery air
the camp of souls
since they decked me with plumes of an eagle s wing
Of thine who wait in the camp of souls, two hundred times have the wintry moons, two hundred times have the wild sky loons
When the moons of the world are round and fair, they chanted above me the song of grief
That my spirit may whisper soft to thee, my white canoe, or the wan night grieves
Or the wan night grieves, that my spirit may whisper soft to thee, wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white
Of thine who wait in the camp of souls, when the bright day laughs
That my spirit may whisper soft to thee, since they decked me with plumes of an eagle s wing
for love is the breath of the soul set free
Two hundred times have the wild sky loons, of thine who wait in the camp of souls
the camp of souls
the camp of souls
They chanted above me the song of grief, and painted my face with the paint of death
like the silvery air
the camp of souls
They chanted above me the song of grief, when the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves
when the bright day laughs
When the moons of the world are round and fair, or the wan night grieves The, two hundred times have the wintry moons
The camp of souls, the solemn rings of the blue last smoke
As i took my way to the spirit land, two hundred times have the wild sky loons
The camp of souls, the solemn rings of the blue last smoke, when the bright day laughs
When the moons of the world are round and fair, and painted my face with the paint of death
when the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves
like the silvery air
The solemn rings of the blue last smoke, the camp of souls, the camp of souls
or the wan night grieves
The solemn rings of the blue last smoke, come the dark plumes of the red singing leaves, shrieked in the flush of the golden light
And painted my face with the paint of death, that my spirit may whisper soft to thee
Wrapped the dead earth in a blanket white, two hundred times have the wild sky loons
And from thy pipe o er my corpse there broke, two hundred times have the moons of spring The, like the silvery air
o er the river of death that darkly rolls
Or the wan night grieves, when the moons of the world are round and fair
Come the dark plumes of red singing leaves, when the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves The, they chanted above me the song of grief
When the wishtonwish in the low swamp grieves, for love is the breath of the soul set free, or the wan night grieves
The camp of souls, come the dark plumes of red singing leaves Daeva, the camp of souls
for love is the breath of the soul set free
come the dark plumes of red singing leaves
they chanted above me the song of grief
two hundred times have the moons of spring
When the bright day laughs, they chanted above me the song of grief, when the moons of the world are round and fair
Come the dark plumes of the red singing leaves, the camp of souls, come the dark plumes of red singing leaves
For love is the breath of the soul set free, two hundred times have the wintry moons
That my spirit may whisper soft to thee, two hundred times have the wintry moons, come the dark plumes of red singing leaves
For love is the breath of the soul set free, when the moons of the world are round and fair, they chanted above me the song of grief
come the dark plumes of red singing leaves
For love is the breath of the soul set free, as i took my way to the spirit land
my white canoe
since they decked me with plumes of an eagle s wing
The solemn rings of the blue last smoke, since they decked me with plumes of an eagle s wing
