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The Decemberists » The Queen's Approach
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	I'm Made of bones of the branches The boughs and the brow-beating light While my feet are the trunks And my head is the canopy high And my fingers extend To the leaves And the eaves And the (bright?) Might I shine? It's my shine (child?) He Was a baby abandoned Entombed in a cradle of claim (clay?) And I was a soul Who took pity And stole him away And gave him the form of A fawn to inhabit By day Bright Eyes, stay It's my day And you Have removed this temptation That's troubled my innocent child To abduct and abuse and to render, (bereft?) and defiled But the river is deep To the banks and the water is wild, I will fly you To the far side
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