COME TO THE FOUNTAIN

Come to the fountain
Under the mountain,
There’s rushing and gushing and the blood is strong.
Old trees are fallen,
Stone walls are broken,
Love has been left sleeping, bleeding so long.
New moss is growing,
Water is flowing
Spirits asleep are now dancing along.
The harp is singing,
The heart’s unwringing.
Some life is growing over right and wrong.

Here comes the water from the hills of hope.
Home of the climber with a broken rope.
The hunted deer dying under the snow,
No longer numbs the sore heart full of woe.

I will compare you to a summer’s day.
Rough winds are shaking the new gorse of May.
The buds are glowing,
Water is flowing,
Write the unwritten and sing the unsung.
Come to the fountain
Under the mountain.
There ‘s holding and hugging and the blood is strong.
The deep is deepening,
The high is heighteming,
The bright is brightening the colours of Spring.

How sweet the spray on the shy lover’s face
Restoring lightness with new drops of grace.
Praise for the water from the hills of hope,
A flow of freedom, the end of the slope.

One day I will find, where you have gone.
I’ll sing till your time and my time are done.
Behind the curtain,
Under the mountain.
I’ll hold your hands and kiss your lips again.
Come to the fountain,
Under the mountain,
Come to the river where the blood is strong.
Come be the lover you want to be,
And I will be the change I want to see.
Come to the fountain,
Under the mountain.