|
Tin aeroplanes trace the time |
|
Past our fading window's eyes |
|
And the panes are pains inside |
|
Through which we see |
|
All the glories fast unfold |
|
All the joys lo and behold |
|
It's a bitter-sweet dark secret |
|
That we keep |
|
Bold children of the air |
|
Swoop and fighting feathers fly |
|
Leave the hue and cry |
|
Behind and far below |
|
In the room behind the door |
|
Like a ghost who walks the floor |
|
I go searching for a trace |
|
Of wing or beak |
|
And feel so weak for a while |
|
From your passionate smile |
|
Hear the wind beneath the trees |
|
It's the soundtrack of my dreams |
|
And the song it sings |
|
Is of the earth and sky |
|
All the sleepers who awake |
|
Know too well the poisoned taste |
|
It's a sweet disease |
|
That carries me away |
|
Cold fountains in the dark |
|
Pass beneath your shining arc |
|
Oh part of me is crystal too |
|
And dances free |
|
In the marble mausoleum |
|
In the shadows I can see them |
|
Lovers |
|
Blue bed spread they give me head |
|
Oh how I bled |
|
When they said that the rose had no thorns |
|
Tin aeroplanes trace the time |
|
Past our fading windows eyes |
|
And the panes are pains inside |
|
Through which we see |