Turning the Plough Lyrics

At the top of my tree, I can breathe

Let the winds encircle me

The chainsaw limp by my side

I look out into the field

Where her body was concealed

Where her body was defiled

Shimmering light on the sheaves

But nobody would believe

What I stubbed with my toe

In the springtime of the year

Dark waters running clear

Winter's backlog of bone

What if I took my concern to the station?"Terry, what took you so long?"

What if somebody has lit on my secret

Turning the plough?

Her mother and her friend the priest

Pray for the souls of the deceased

They maunder round the frozen isles

Or shiver on the library step

Collecting pennies to erect

A monument to her life

At the top of my tree I can see

A town smothered up in weeds

I clip back what's overgrown

Monday to Friday, nine to five

I'm entangled in a lie

That is not my own

But what if I took my concern to the station?"Terry, what took you so long?"

What if somebody has lit on my secret

Turning the

What if I took my concern to the station?"Terry, what took you so long?"

What if somebody has lit on my secret

Turning the

Turning the plough