A Perfect Indian — текст песни (Sinead Oconnor)

A Perfect Indian is he
Remembering him life is sweet
Like a weeping willow
His face on my pillow
Comes to me still in my dreams

And there I saw a young baby
A beautiful daughter was she
A face from a painting
Red cheeks and teeth aching
Her eyes like a wild Irish sea

On a table in her yellow dress
For a photograph feigned happiness
Why in my life is that the only time
That any of you will smile at me

I`m sailing on this terrible ocean
I`ve come for my self to retrieve
Too long have I been feeling like ???`s childern
And there`s only one way to be free

He`s shy and he speaks quietly
He`s gentle and he seems to me
Like the elf-arrow
His face worn and harrowed
Is he a daydreamer like me