Each is not my love, moan I for what
I make up hundreds so I know how to make love
There, you can have my youth, I know I have loved
Started to see him, 'till when I married him
To yearn admits you’re outside to me Grow up I have seen these all my life, perhaps a lot more
And I have been so naive
All move and try he knew not
And your spangle, how it hurts, and I have feelings
To yearn admits you’re outside to me Grow up
Each is not my love, moan I for what
I make up hundreds so I know how to make love
There, you can have my youth, I know I have loved
Started to see him, 'till when I married him
To yearn admits you're outside to me
Grow up
I have seen these all my life, perhaps a lot more
And I have been so naive
All move and try he knew not
And your spangle, how it hurts, and I have feelings
To yearn admits you're outside to me
Grow up
...based on an old legend that death is upon those who can hear the sound of the bluebell’s knoll....
"Each is not my love, moan I for what
I make up hundreds so I know how to make love
There, you can have my youth, I know I have loved
Started to see him, till when I married him
To yearn admits you're outside to me
Grow up
I have seen these all my life, perhaps a lot more
And I have been so naive
All move and try he knew not
And your spangle, how it hurts and I have feelings
To yearn admits you're outside to me
Grow up
To yearn admits you're outside to me
Grow up"
This song will always pull me through the past and into another realm. Some of their best work, imho...and a great example of how Ms Fraser earned her name as The Voice of God