Whistling Girl

A whistling girl 
  Among his flock of sheep 
  In a flow of words 
  Lay breathing backward rest assured 
  Of Elijah and God's birds 

  It will fall to us 
  It will fall to us 

  Inside the home the folk pine grow 
  Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown 
  It is all that glitters 
  This terrible weakness 

  It falls to us 
  It falls to us 
  From his holy hill 

  And it falls to us 
  Yes it falls to us 
  By his perfect will 

  Through the open windows of the soul tonight 
  His yoke is easy and his burden light 
  Kiss the sun lest he be angry 
  And you perish in the way 

  The rivers of the sky are dry 
  And rolled up like a scroll 
  Down below we tend to the forgetting 
  Forgetting what we know 
  The sun slips from your shoulder 
  As you enter in the wood 
  Without thought of thorns 
  Without thought of thorns 

  And it falls to us 
  It falls to us 
  From his holy hill 

  It will falls to us 
  Yes it falls to us 
  By his perfect will 

  Through the open windows of your soul tonight 
  His yoke is easy and his burden light 
  Kiss the sun lest he be angry 
  And you perish in the way