Blood of my blood
Skin of my skin
You’re in roundelay water again
I want to face the condition you’re in
The old wrenches hardly turn me

Can you catch a thrown line
Tied around neat
Circle once about, please allow me
I see the pall coming off of our cheeks
We’re weak but a leaf is turning

And I move lightly in the dawn
Try to, lightly ever on the lee

Though I liked summer light on you
If we ride a winter-long wind
Well time’s not what I belong to
And I'm not the season I'm in

Holding on close
Holding on to
Any kind of ring I can bring you
And at the beachwood pyre good news
It’s wet but it’s catching easy

And I move slightly in the dawn
Try to, gently ever on the lee

Though I liked summer light on you
If we ride a winter-long wind
Well time’s not what I belong to
And you’re not the season you’re in