Reverend Sisters

They take my time without question

and fill my days with all their emptiness

and in their drawing rooms they beg my sympathy

but if I weep to solve their silent misery

they save my tears to sell for silver.



The neighbours trespass on my highway

and feed my lambs on every pavement corner

and with their grief inside they're hiding from the rain

but if my sun should shine too loudly on their woe

they catch its beam to sell for gold.



They have me captured in their city

in every living room my dust has laid me low

and well I know the brown earth will be my best friend

and when I'm gone they'll find another way to mend

they'll sell my silversong for tears.