I Never Asked to Be Your Mountain

 Tim Buckley ‧ 1967

I never asked to be a mountain, I never asked to fly
Remember when you came to me and told me of his lie?
You didn't understand my love, you don't know why I try

And rain was falling on that day, and I'm the reason why

The flying placey sails the tide and tells me of my child
Wrapped in bitter tales and heartache, he begs me just to smile
Oh, he never asked to be a mountain, he never asked to fly
And through his eye he combs his love and tells him not to cry

She says, "Your scoundrel father flies with a dancer called the queen
And with her stolen cards he plays and laughs but never wins"
Oh, the child dreams to be his hands in the counting of his pain
But only barren breasts he feels for her milk will never drain

As I fly I can't remember
Where I saw the rain
Could it be that a laughter drove me down again?

Charming dancer, will you stop, stop and talk to me?
Is it me that you feel in your dreams, or will you see?
In midnight gazes I found you far from me
If you lead me on, please lead me down

Oh, flying, flying fish, please flutter by my door
Yes, you can drink my lines, but first you read my eyes
Each one is titled "I'm Drowning Back to You"
I can't swim your waters and you can't walk my lands
I'm sailing all your sins and I'm climbing all my fears
And soon I will die

I never asked to be a mountain, I never asked to fly
Remember when you came to me and told me of his lie?
You didn't understand my love, you don't know why I try