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PJ Harvey

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PJ Harvey

The Wind

Catherine liked high places
High up, on the hills
A place for making noises
Noises like the whales
Here she built a chapel with
Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest and rest and
A place where she could wash

And listen to the wind blow...

She dreamt of children's voices
And torture on the wheel
Patron Saint of nothing
A woman of the hills
She once was a lady
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Of pleasure,　and high born
A lady of the city
But now she sits and moans

And listens to the wind blow...

I see her in a chapel
High up on the hill
She must be so lonely
Oh Mother can't we give
A husband to our Catherine ?
A handsom one, a deal
A rich one for the lady
Someone to listen with