"Crescent Moon" Reach a hand to the crescent moon grab hold of the hollow. If she sits in the palm of the left that moon will be fuller tomorow. If she sits in the palm of the right that moon is on the wane and the love of the one who shares your bed will be doing just the same. (Chorus) Won't you come with me, she said, there's plenty of room in my iron bed. You're looking cold and tired and more than a little human. I know I'm not part of the life you had planned, but I think once your body feels my hand your mind will change and your heart will lose its pain. Out among the fields gently hipped beneath the corn, Assiniboine bones beneath the highway he stood there and he thought of home. A finger traces the path of a satellite. You're drawn to a distant copse of trees. A voice as sweet as Mare's Tail clings to the prairie breeze. (Chorus) (Bridge) Do I reach for you when I know you're on the wane? Do I sense you when I know you're not around? Do I search for you when I know you can't be found? Do I dare to speak your name? Raise your eyes to a moonless sky and try to wish upon a rising star. Search all you want for her blessing but you won't find her sparkling there. Now cast your eyes to a part of the sky where nothing but darkness unfolds and watch as all around you she reveals the brilliance of secrets untold. (Chorus) (Bridge) "Ring on the Sill" She placed her ring on the sill, dishes piled high. She's on the front porch step and the air smells like snow. She's thinking of the siege to come and how she'll miss those weekends in the park with the sun on her face and her book by her side and that lingering taste that he left on her tongue. He lifts his glass from the table. It leaves a ring where it stood. He sees the light from the window caress her like he knows he should. He's remembering the first time he kissed her and how he'd wake and immediately he'd miss her, like a spell, with each breath, he'd taste her breath like a haunting, irritating as hell. Do you remember when you'd pray to never see the day when someone would make you feel this way. 'Cause you knew they would cut right through you and once inside, you were afraid they'd find nothing to hold on to. He puts her ring on her finger, she brushes back his hair. He takes a sip from his glass, she inhales the cold fall air. And they're thinking of the long road ahead and the strength that they will need just to reach the end. And there in the silence they search for the balance between this fear that they feel and a love that has graced their lives. "Cold Tea Blues" If I pour your cup, that is friendship. If I add your milk, that is manners. If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste, that is tea. But if I measure the sugar to satisfy your expectant tongue then that is love, sitting untouched and growing cold.