Sunday Faced Queen

Carving Apples

She keeps the stars from heading home
Just like a running grave
And at night when I’m alone
I wonder where I’m supposed to be
‘Cause if the worlds a clock
Then she’s the lock
That keeps it still every time she talks
She sees the space beneath the waves
My Sunday-faced queen

And if you see the setting sun
Tell me where he’s coming from
And does he think that he compares
To all the things she’s won
Wars have broken out
Nations fall apart
The night goes bright
And the day turns dark
This and more is offered for
The Sunday-face queen

Sunday morning tell me what your holding
With your bright eyes and your pony tails
Sunday morning heard your heart’s been burning
You take me to where I want to go

Hope I didn’t take too long
The hero’s skull it’s polished
I think we won or am I wrong
Though it’s hard to love a place you don’t belong
While the river’s wide
You shout your last goodbyes
But she walks in silence
Whether wet or dry
She lets the wind cut through her hair
The Sunday-faced queen

Close your eyes sweet love of mine
The dead-locked lands
Won’t blow you down
Say death to yes to draw the line
But she never speaks of what was found
Though you hate the rain
She thinks the same
Of floods and famine, fortune and fame
She smiles and points up to the sky
My Sunday-faced queen