All songs copyright Matthew Mutch, Dark Pilgrim Music, 2012.  All Rights Reserved.

Website Design:  Neal Humby

I met her one summer, on the peninsula

I was walking behind her, her legs looked so fine

And I made love to her, on the peninsula

I made love to her at least in my mind

She talked about flowers, specifically orchids

Her face was on fire, especially her lips

I noticed her hair was turning to gold

And falling so perfectly down to her breast

Her voice was magnetic, she laughed like a schoolgirl

Her eyes held no secrets, made prisoners of mine

She stepped like a dancer, my ballerina

Dancing so gracefully into my heart

We fell together, embracing for hours

Touching her gently in every place

Her skin was so white, was lost in the trilliums

Like one of those paintings that no one believes

We sheltered ourselves under rocks in the rain

Collapsed into sleep on the soft emerald moss

But when I awoke she just wasn’t around

I looked everywhere but she could not be found

A shimmering white dove appeared in the trees

It smiled at me, at least so it seemed

And while I was wondering what I should do

It burst into colours and vanished from view

Been searching the trail for days and months

There’s no ballerina, not even the dove

Been dragging my dreams in a tattered sack

And I’m tired as hell but I’ll keep coming back

I met her one summer, on the peninsula

I was walking behind her, her legs looked so fine

And I made love to her, on the peninsula

I made love to her at least in my mind

Finisterre, Finisterre!