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Listening To Singing Lyrics - The Trackless Woods - Iris Dement

A woman's voice, like the wind, it rushes 

Nocturnal, moist and black 

And as it flies, whatever it brushes 

It changes and it won't change back 

 

It's a diamond-shine, comes to bathe and bless 

Things are draped in a silvery light 

It rustles its suggestive dress 

Woven of fantasy, silken and bright 

 

And the power that propels the enchanted voice 

Displays such a hidden might 

It's as if the grave were not ahead 

It's as if the grave were not ahead 

But mysterious stairs beginning their flight 

 

And the power that propels the enchanted voice 

Displays such a hidden might 

It's as if the grave were not ahead 

It's as if the grave were not ahead 

It's as if the grave were not ahead 

But mysterious stairs beginning their flight