Cold mountain water... don't ever swim there.
Just stand on the edge and look in there.
And you might see a woman down there.
They say some days, up she comes, up she rises, as if out of nowhere.
Wearing victorian dress.
She was calling her pet,
Tumbling like a cloud that has drowned in the lake.
Just like a poor, porcelain doll...
Her eyes are open but no-one's home.
The clock has stopped.
So long she's gone.
Her old dog is sleeping.
His legs are frail now.
But when he dreams,
Along long beaches and sticky fields.
Through the spooky wood looking for her.
The beds are made. the table is laid.
The door is open - someone is calling:
It's a woman.
"here boy, here boy! you've come home!
I've got an old bone and a biscuit and so much love.
Miss me? did you miss me?
Here's the kitchen - there's your basket.
Here's the hall - that's where you wait for me.
Here's the bedroom - you're not allowed in there.
Here's my lap - that's where you lay your head.
Here boy, oh you're a good boy.
You've come home.
You've come home..."