Through the Horned Clouds

<br>By Robin Williamson<br><br>Robin Williamson: Guitar, indian flute, oboe, piano, cello and vocal.<br><br>I see your faces<br>blown through the horned clouds<br>in the silent cities<br>they call me so loud<br>come through the fire<br>come through the foam<br>come at the world`s night<br>call the herds home<br>dearest child dearest child<br>Most High<br>please don`t let our fancy die<br>till all the grapes are gathered from the vine<br><br>when you come<br>will you sound the harp<br>give to the blind<br>cat`s eyes in the dark<br>o will we know you for what you are<br>you who have come so far<br>sweetest fair sweetest fair<br>Most High<br>don`t let them cut that ladder before its time<br>for all the grapes to be gathered from the vine<br><br>He comes again<br>She comes again<br>through the mist of time<br>through the mist of rain<br>no more words my heart brims over<br>in the sea of circustance<br>rows for the rocky shore<br><br>we who have sworn<br>by the dead and the unborn<br>wheels within wheels<br>O Most High.