Spoken For

Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Anton, Kimock

A Hunter lyric for Zero. These are the lyrics as in "Box Of Rain" - the lyrics Zero sang (see below) are slightly different:

Spoken for, since the first new morning of the world began
Spoken for, slope of the mountain and the lay of the land
Spoken for, the roar of the water on the white sea sand
Spoken for, the fruit of the valley where I make my stand

Chorus
Clouds of war, gather on the promontory wind-swept shore
Words of wind, spoken from the belly by the fire within

Spoken to, by the white winged crow in my sleeping ear
Spoken to, promise of a reckoning day draws near
Spoken to, those who only hear what they want to hear
Spoken to, with life in the balance the truth rings clear

[chorus]

Spoken by, the face of a cliff scraping on the sky
Spoken by, the wind on the water as the waves roll high
Spoken by, the wing of an eagle when it's on the fly
Spoken by, the girl in the window with the laughing eye

[chorus]

Spoken in, the heat of the moment when lamps are low
Spoken in, earnest or in jest, or just for show
Spoken in, a lingo of the heart only lovers know
Spoken in, trickles of blood that upon the virgin snow

[chorus]

Spoken for, with lines in the sand no one else could see
Spoken for, awakened by flame in the night to reality
Spoken for, defended to the death at Wounded Knee
Spoken for, acre by acre from sea to sea

Spoken for, since the first new morning of the world began
Spoken for, slope of the mountain and the lay of the land
Spoken for, the roar of the water on the white sea sand
Spoken for, the fruit of the valley where I make my stand
I thought I heard a voice whisper in my ear
A voice in the distance, but drawing near

Spoken to, but they only hear what they want to hear
Only when, fighting for their lives does the truth ring clear
Spoken by, the face of a cliff scraping on the sky
Spoken by, the wind on the water as the waves roll high
The winging of an eagle when it's on the fly
The girl in the window with the laughing eye

Spoken in, the heat of the moment when the lamps are low
Spoken in, dead earnest or in jest, or just for show
Spoken in, a lingo of the heart only lovers know
Spoken in, drops of blood that trickle on the virgin snow

Spoken to, by the white winged crow in my sleeping ear
Spoken to, the promise of a reckoning day draws near
Spoken for, defended to the death at Wounded Knee
Spoken for, every acre by acre from sea to sea
With lines in the sand no one else could see
Awakened by flame in the night to reality