The bird that plucked the Olive Leaf   Has been circling like a record around the spindle of my mind   Where the needle's worn the grooves too deep   And scratched the wax that's blistered from the heat besides      So from any movement in the room   If my cat walked by the arm skipped but to my surprise   My interrupting cat improved   A sound already so severely compromised      The needle's worn the grooves too deep   The needle's worn the grooves too deep   The needle's worn the grooves too deep   The needle's worn the grooves too deep      I'm a donkey's jaw on a desert dune   Beside the bush that Moses saw   That burned and yet was not consumed   She's the silver coin I lost   I'm the sheep who slipped away   We pray with fingers crossed   But you listen patiently anyway      I wrote a little song for you   With melody I'd borrowed put to words that didn't rhyme   To repeat what you already knew   As the stones thrown at your window tapped in syncopation      You kept a distance out of fear you'd break   But what's good a single wind chime, hanging quite all alone?   The music our collisions would make   Is a sound that turns the road-that-leads-us-back-home, into home      The music our collisions make   The music our collisions make   The music our collisions make   The music our collisions make      I had a rusty spade but I'm not the fighting sort   If I was Samson I'd have found that harlot's blade   And cut my own hair short   Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay   You see my coins are counterfeit   But you accept them anyway      So spare me your goodbyes   Your waving-handkerchief-good-byes   Given my tendency to err so on the sentimental side   I'll spare you my goodbyes   The truth belongs to God   The mistakes were mine