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In the white room with black curtains near the station. |
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Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings. |
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Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes. |
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Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment. |
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I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines; |
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Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves. |
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You said no strings could secure you at the station. |
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Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows. |
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I walked into such a sad time at the station. |
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As I walked out, felt my own need just beginning. |
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I'll wait in the queue when the trains come back; |
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Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves. |
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At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd. |
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Consolation for the old wound now forgotten. |
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Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in her dark eyes. |
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She's just dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings. |
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I'll sleep in this place with the lonely crowd; |
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Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves. |
