|
He says he wants to buy a metal shade |
|
which they'll never collide |
|
she fills the room with dark blades of grass |
|
that she couldn't revive |
|
the plastic trees of the wasted time |
|
on a winter's end are fading her mind |
|
the crucifix on the liquor's blue |
|
hits the comforting of a transparent life |
|
What twenty years at last will give? |
|
She can't make him stop |
|
she can't make her stop but he knows she will |
|
she's filtering the pastor's truth |
|
he's fingering with her feelings' glue |
|
but the frequency could make'em stop |
|
(this knot is standin' still) |
