I could never build the ether, or the grass overgrown
I could never build the river with a mouth full of foam
Could never build the winter with her cold tears of glitter
I've been listening to the red oak, the acorn she cries
Listening to the white birch, the paper she dries
Listening to the frog's joke, listening to the fire smoke
I could never tell you now what I had oftеn said before
Becausе promise is a pendulum, just swinging at the door
And I'm not saying I'm not jealous, or scared anymore
I'm just saying
I could never make a rainbow, or any kind of flower
Could never make a sparrow, or a meteor shower
Could never build an earthworm, never make the earth turn
I've been listening to the laughing of the fox down the trail
Clasping to the listening of the moss to the snail
Ooo
The shimmer of the beech leaves, as the wind does a big sneeze
I could never tell you now, but I had often said before
Because promise is a pendulum, just hanging at the door
And I'm not saying I'm not jealous, or scared anymore
I'm just saying
I could never make the shadow between your cheek and your eye
Could never make a freckle or the warm breath you sigh
The canopy of lashes with the softness of ashes
I've been listening to the memory, the way that it was
Been listening to the echo of whys and because
Listening to the echo, telling me to let go
I could never tell you now, but I had often said before
Because promise is a pendulum, just swinging at the door
And I'm not saying I'm not jealous or scared anymore
I'm just saying
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