These New Puritans

On the Island
There are no places or people
But I'll go walking
And on the way I'll find you
On the way I'll find
The magic trick inverts
And the way to get there
Is going round in circles
And the way to get there
La-da-da-da-da-da-da

I am the searchlight
Not the seeker, not the found
I am the midwife
Not the newborn, not the bearer
Gave birth to the child and came back again

Shut your eyes and listen
And the way to get there
La-da-da-da-da-da-da

I am the wood fire
Not the broken, not the crowned
I am the midwife
Gave birth to the child and came back again
I am the murder
Not the suspect, not the victim
I am the reasons
Not the questions, not the answers (the air)
I am the mourner
Not the suspect, not the victim
I am the reasons
Not the question, not the answers (the air)

La-da-da-da, where ever you will find them