The Wind Lyrics - Pj Harvey

Catherine liked high places 

High up on the hills 

A place for making noises 

Noises like the whales 

Here she built a chapel with 

Her image on the wall 

A place where she could rest and 

A place where she could wash 

And listen to the wind blow 

She dreamt of children's voices 

And torture on the wheel 

Patron-Saint of nothing 

A woman of the hills 

She once was a lady 

Of pleasure, and high-born 

A lady of the city 

But now she sits and moans 

And listens to the wind blow 

I see her in her chapel 

High up on a hill 

She must be so lonely 

Oh Mother, can't we give 

A husband to our Catherine? 

A handsome one, a dear 

A rich one for the lady 

Someone to listen with