letra de what's in your mind, my dove, my coney? - peter dickinson
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what’s in your mind, my dove, my coney;
do thoughts grow like feathers, the dead end of life;
is it making of love or counting of money
or raid on the jewels, the plans of a thief?
open your eyes, my dearest dallier;
let hunt with your hands for escaping me;
go through the motions of exploring the familiar;
stand on the brink of the warm white day
rise with the wind, my great big serpent;
silence the birds and darken the air;
change me with terror, alive in a moment;
strike for the heart and have me there
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