I used to ride up on the hill And look down at the darkened Silhouettes of tall black windowsills And my heart jumped every ledge Until one bright morning
I lost my shoes I lost my wife I lost my keys I lost my kite And though I'm young at heart I'm so much older Subway eyes and banked up skies And violent
Sometimes I feel like Karna Has got over my skin I put on my armour Guarding me from outside in, but At night I am woken by Images of the flood oh oh
She hates you, then she loves you more Underneath the shadows of her thoughts, shadows of her thoughts, she rings a bell for you I wish that she was a
From the city to the world below From the strangers to the ones I know From the darkness to the holy glow We burn so bright Can we outlast the show?
All hell's crashing down inside The windows to the other side Shimmering in rooms to quiet sighs of 'Oh well if it's happening there It isn't here',
I climb the ladder of those black and white keys They take me out and into places some are real some are imaginary And though she sways between a mystery
This is the last time I will follow you This is the last time I will follow you at all Cos woman you're my trouble And woman I've been trouble and despair
And though you'd like to hear a song That sings everything's all right The temperature is warm The fire horses sleep So gently comes the night You close
All along the street They're holding signs that say That I am lost And that I do not know the way I asked the rock Sitting in a shade of grey I asked
climbed out the window in the darkness And behind you in the night A million dogs come out to fight In the empire that will be rising Rising through
The bus drives over on a mellow scene We've done this five nights and tomorrow's free Oh I say, tomorrow's free And I seem to meet it in the morning and
I like the sound of St Petersburg bells banging in my head The night train rattle and shake and rumble through that cabin bunk bed Now Sigmund said something
His mother was a snake His father was a scarecrow Born in the desert with his hat on his head Never missed a shot Sharp as a Pharaoh Tequila in the sunrise
No mountain can see But sometimes a mountain can sing Or hum at least I have heard one Humming on the evening we ... And no horizon can sleep But sometimes
If frisy hair was a metaphor for festival time then this woman is a goddess of that festival shrine, met her - at a jam in that garden of sorts I must
used to cry but now I have to laugh because she?s got that torment to a fine art smart like a foxy and craf-ty-as-a-cat i?m looking up as i?m lying
Well I?ve been at the top of a cliff and seen ships go sailing away And I?ve watched the sea turn green and bright bluefish swim in the shade I?ve imagined
