Gentle Wandering Ways - The Beau Brummels

Though I stood on several mountains

And slept between the fountains of your web

Though I’m strangled and entangled

And captured in the dangling of your threads

There is nothing left but silence

No call at all for violence

Like a shadow on the run

When I’ve seen the winds blow crazy

Watch lovers lost and lazy through the dawn

When I’ve broken you deserting

And spoken though the curtains of a song

There is nothing left but pictures

And time worn crazy mixtures

From your gentle wandering ways

I climbed up cathedral towers

And listen to the hours tolling by

As we talked by glinting candles

In endless city ramblings of the sky

There is nothing left but faces

Empty shattered traces

From your gentle wandering ways

I stepped over many chasms

And floundered in the fathoms of your wake

Since I running through the spanning

Unused to all the fanning of your traits

There is nothing left to be one

In the pageants of the sun

And your gentle wandering ways