Upon The Vine Songtext
von William Topley

The grapes are rotting upon the vine
The flies are trapped baby behind
the blind
The cider apples are bruised and sore
And they lay claim darling against
your door

Where is the power to pull the tides
To block out the sun darling and
Cloud the sky
Where is the mistress of my desire
Now you′re cold
So cold

You press the flowers, you kiss
the bride
you look so happy, where's that tonight
I hear the voices inside your brain
Of rusted yard art out in the rain


Where is the power to pull the tides
To block out the sun darling and
Cloud the sky
Where is the mistress of my desire
Now you′re cold

All you need is divine forgiveness
And help to harvest your wine
I send your money to Santa Ana
And pray for you sometimes

Where is the mistress of my desire
Now you're cold

All you need is divine forgiveness
And help to harvest your wine
I send your money to Santa Ana
And pray for you sometimes

And I can't take no more thrills with
my sadness
And I′m not walking your line no more
I know you numbered the beats of my heart
On the Sierra Madre floor