Tin Smithing

I’ll be tin smithing you be tin smithing me
Where I am thinking of hands
Nothing on us but sea
When I hit the hay or the hearth or the mat
No one’s there to answer me back
No one ties my plait but me
Now I look forward to love
Riding the train down our track
Make stops on the way back
Call and I will call you back
Call and I will I mean that
Frank showed us the rose
And the colours they chose to transcend the sunlight and bend the moonlight
Fly tying looks fun whether veiling or masking
Dim, bashful or basking
Just tie the tag for your team
When I hit the hay or the hearth or the mat
No one’s there to answer me back
No one lies back flat with me
When stars they flew down to rust
Making sand, making dust
Sculpting sister from sand
Making us with their hands
Made to love understand
Making us with their hands
Made to love understand