Judy Collins
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And who will write love songs for you

When I am Lord at last

And your body is the little highway shrine

That all my priests have passed

That all my priests have passed?

My priests, they will put flowers there

They will kneel before the glass

But they'll wear away your little window, love

They will trample on the grass

They will trample on the grass

And who will shoot the arrow

That men will follow through your grace

When I am Lord of memories

And all your armor has turned to lace

And all your armor has turned to lace?

The simple life of heroes

The twisted life of saints

They just confuse the sunny calendar

With their red and golden paint

With their red and golden paint

And all of you have seen the dance

That God has kept from me

But he has seen me watching you

When all your minds were free

When all your minds were free

And who will write love songs for you

When I am Lord at last

And your body is the little highway shrine

That all my priests have passed

That all my priests have passed?

My priests, they will put flowers there

They will stand before the glass

But they'll wear away your little window, love

They will trample on the grass

They will trample on the grass


Mirror lyrics:

They will trample on the grass

They will trample on the grass

But they'll wear away your little window, love

They will stand before the glass

My priests, they will put flowers there

That all my priests have passed?

That all my priests have passed

And your body is the little highway shrine

When I am Lord at last

And who will write love songs for you

When all your minds were free

When all your minds were free

But he has seen me watching you

That God has kept from me

And all of you have seen the dance

With their red and golden paint

With their red and golden paint

They just confuse the sunny calendar

The twisted life of saints

The simple life of heroes

And all your armor has turned to lace?

And all your armor has turned to lace

When I am Lord of memories

That men will follow through your grace

And who will shoot the arrow

They will trample on the grass

They will trample on the grass

But they'll wear away your little window, love

They will kneel before the glass

My priests, they will put flowers there

That all my priests have passed?

That all my priests have passed

And your body is the little highway shrine

When I am Lord at last

And who will write love songs for you


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