Cynthia Marie

Lyrics

III. Orphan Moonlight
oh my father was a fine young man
and my mother was a painter
they had no choice but to let me go
for their world was coming to an end
they said I was free as the wind in the pakabim plum tree
and that the reigns of other wars would never find me

the night I left I was not afraid,
the land was watching me
those rolling hills and the light of night,
oh the moonlight was a beautiful thing to see,
the moonlight was a beautiful thing to see

when I arrived in my new homeland
I buried all my hardest feelings
so that a soft light would shine
around me ...

now I sing to the wind in the pakabim plum tree
and I pray that there will be a day
when we are all free.