Turn Me Round

My life is never peaceful

As I fly me high above

For I hover like an eagle

With an olive branch of love

With the vision of a hunter

And the conscience of a dove.

Turn me round.

Now the eagle holds the aces

When it comes to strength and pace

For the dove is a beginner

In the universal race

But lonely is the hunter

As he closes in the chase.

Turn me round

Clear my vision

Let me see the light

Turn me round

Change position

Give the blind man sight

Turn me round.

Let me see the tracery

Of the lines upon your face

As I kneel in contemplation

Of your majesty and grace

For the eagle in his sorrow

Is a man in sure disgrace.

My dove, my mediator

May you flourish in your solitude

A haven in the storm clouds

Let me paint you in your studio

May the brushmarks on the canvas

Show the eagle in his eerie mood.