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(difford/tilbrook) |
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Power station by the river |
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Grinding slowly to a stop |
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Clock still ticking on the mantle |
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Flames still flicker on the log |
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Coffee brewing in the kitchen |
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Where the door is open wide |
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Glass upon a hoovered carpet |
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Eyes are glowing in the night |
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It's the silence you can see |
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Hearing shadows behind me |
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All the buildings standing empty |
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All the trains are standing still |
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Cars are scattered by the roadside |
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There's no top upon the hill |
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Nails have scratched upon the outside |
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Of the empty chapel door |
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But i don't think that the father |
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Wants to live there anymore |
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There's no bone for you to pick |
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No more wax around the wick |
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Shot the arrow from the circle |
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At the apple on the tree |
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From a garden that was eden |
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Strange the fruit it bears for me |
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And the wind will spread the fire |
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And the rain will ever fall |
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If no one reads the writing |
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That's been written on the wall |
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Underneath the apple tree |
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There's a ghost who waits for me |
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The apple tree shakes its arms |
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Its fruit falls |
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Its fruits are tasting strange |
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The apple tree is shaking |
