I see, at intervals, the glance of a curious sort of bird through the close-set bars of the cage; a vivid, restless, resolute captive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high.
— Charlotte Brontë
Over The Rhine, "Soon"
Soon
The near parade will find us
Soon
The fall-by-the-way may bind us
Tongue and groove, body and fender
The weight of your world is splendor
Soon
Soon
The troubled past will leave us
Soon
The bird of fear won't need us
The blood of our veins will guide us
A map of the train inside us
Soon
Soon
The howl of the angels will mark out time
The gift of your heart frees me from mine
Soon
The night that we call forever
Burns like a lost love letter
Soon
Soon
Soon
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