|
Walking through the past |
|
What can you do |
|
When another old mask recognizes itself in you |
|
Twenty odd summers ago |
|
Fluttering back with a whisper through your hand |
|
and a glimmer in your eye |
|
In a Tiffany box where I kept your face |
|
There's an old snapshot of a burnt out place |
|
She's moving like a figure on the ice |
|
Gold powder on a glass baseboard |
|
Her lips are speaking; take her advice |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Locked inside yourself |
|
Where can you go |
|
When it's somebody else |
|
with the keys to free your soul |
|
There is no more house |
|
Where you were once in |
|
Just a dozen bright rooms |
|
and a portrait of no one |
|
By your old man's bed |
|
Where we pressed our love |
|
With the condom drying in a cracked teacup |
|
She's moving like a figure on the ice |
|
Gold powder on a glass baseboard |
|
Her lips are speaking; take her advice |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
In a tiffany box where I kept your face |
|
There's an old snapshot of a burnt out place |
|
She's moving like a figure on the ice |
|
Gold powder on a glass baseboard |
|
Her lips are speaking; take her advice |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Keep moving like a figure on the ice |
|
Soft powder on a glass baseboard |
|
Her lips are speaking; take her advice |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
|
Don't turn around |
|
Don't try shadowing her |
