Mark Kozelek
Heron Blue
Don't cry, my love, don't cry no more
A crashing sky, a roaring scream
A city drowned in God's black tears
I cannot bear to see you

She lay under the midnight moon
Her restless body stirring
Until the magic morning hour
Like poison, it succumbs her

Her baby skin, her old black dress
Her hair, it twists 'round her necklace
Constricts and chokes like ruthless vines
'Til sleep, she overtakes her

Her room is painted heron blue
Lit by candlelight and chandelier
And from her headboard perched so high
A million dreams have passed her

Don't cry, my love, don't cry no more
It overwhelms my breaking heart
A minor swell of violins
I cannot bear to hear them

A mother shepherds her young birds
She fills their mouths and warms their souls
'Til they are strong and good to fly
Away from her, alone she'll die
Cradled on quiet old oak limb
As heaven blew her light, fair wind
A breath of soot into her lung
A life, a journey's end in one

Don't sing that old sad hymn no more
It resonates inside my soul
It haunts me in my waking dreams
I cannot bear to hear it

Don't play those violins no more
Their melancholic overtones
They echo off the floor and walls
I cannot bear to hear them