Beth Orton

Lost myself in a tangent of words
Can't decide what I've seen or heard
Can't sleep for counting sheep
How long...does this river..run deep?
How long...does this river..run deep?
Building 'em up in order to find
What's not lost but left behind
My instinct got bruised, but I still see
I was a victim of being no casualty
Just like coming home...just like coming home
Just like coming home...felt just like coming home
They say that you weave deadly tricks
Cantrip to the worldly hicks
Stare cold with dull surprise
Spark evil to hell in every tear you cry...every tear you cry
Building 'em up in order to find
What's not lost but left behind
My instinct got bruised, but I still see