There is light in my lady’s house 
And there’s none but some falling rain 
This like a spoken word 
She is more than her thousand names

No hands are half as gentle 
Or firm as they like to be 
Thank God you see me the way you do 
Strange as you are to me

It is good in my lady's house 
And the shape that her body makes 
Love is a fragile word 
In the air on the wrinkly lane

No hands are half as gentle 
Or firm as they like to be 
Thank God you see me the way you do 
Strange as you are to me