Falling from her braided hairnNew morning on the stereonClose together on the pagenWe live it downnnShe has made place for menAnd life for those our childrennSewn into her swedish pursenI think upon these thingsnnChosen by candlelightnAs great trees have fallennQuietly and to herselfnThis is my languagennAgain I am away at seanLooked upon with sharp eyesnFather how far am InIt seems forever as the crow fliesnnAgain I am away at seanTossed about under a mean skynLord how far am InHow far am I