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Thom Moore
Night owns my white bones but What's left is still saying Strange prayers in high places Wild airs with wilder graces Birds fly with no motion What draws me draws the ocean Down on my knees again, Still believing In the time of reason no more Down on my knees again Still believing Peace of mind is worth any chore Great dreams and laid schemes Just blown down by high winds And strong signs from old forces Wild dogs run trackless courses Night changes sweet mountain Vain hopes need cold fountains Down on my knees again, Still believing In the time of reason no more Down on my knees again Still believing Peace of mind is worth any chore Night owns my white bones but What's left is still saying Down on my knees again, Still believing In the time of reason no more Down on my knees again Still believing Peace of mind is worth any chore