Call it superstition
Followed and fell
Under the falling
Under the spell
Singing
Bury me
Bury me
Spoken in tongues
Of many colours
In the colours of heaven
In the colours of [bad word] 
In the cannot
Would not tell
In the broken temple bells
In the ringing
Oh, Marian
I can hear those voices singing
Bury me
Inside
Lie beside and
Bury Me
Deep
Unsold
Untold
Cover me over
Unsung
Unsaid
Not borrowed, broken and torn
On the bed tomorrow, mourning
Before you sleep
Bury me deep
Bury me
Inside
Lie beside and
Bury me, bury me, bury me, bury me deep

Living as an angel in the
Place that I was born
Living on air
Living in heaven
Giving the lie down, the line
To the
Theres my heaven

And I know
Which way the wind blows
In nineteen fifty-nine

Which way the wind blows
In nineteen fifty-nine

And the wind blows still
And the wind blows wild again
For a little child an never kill this clean
This way
And it feels like me today
Tell me
Do you feel the same?
Isabelle?
Or do you feel like nineteen fifty-nine?
...do you feel like nineteen fifty-nine?