I read of a mother
Who is a recovering alcoholic
She tells a moving unpredictable story
Of being in a happy family environment
Back with her children and their father
We never went so far, I never had the sense, so far
Yes tipsy, yes drunk on one or two occasions
But never consumed, never consumed by the drink
Nor by the drugs; only really consumed by the life
The life of the love, the love of the life
The bright blue sky that's rising on the horizon
Only consumed, consumed by the love
The love of the being in love
And the being in love with the life
The Icelandic singer said his lyrics were just riffraff
Cut up taffeta, to help him make music
And make music he did
Then, wishing for the lyrics to have some meaning
He handed them over to his father
An Icelandic poet
His father penned some sensitive and enquiring words
Yet they were in Icelandic
Which seriously limited their exposure
The young singer from Iceland hooked up with John Grant
An American, or Canadian, singer-songwriter
Now exiled in the North
He also, so I read somewhere
Had problems with drink and drugs, anyway
He translated the youngsters Icelandic lyrics into English
The resulting album became an international success
For a twenty-three year old boy
From a small village in Iceland
Wow, that last tree was orange, brilliant orange
A real contrast
To those immensely fluorescent greens
O
And there's some darker stuff too
There's always some darker stuff somewhere
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