|
The knife-sharpened needle |
|
Hits the vein upon the mark |
|
The fine-feathered arrow |
|
Finds its way into the dark |
|
The nervous cream of dreamers |
|
Carries blood into our hearts |
|
The sun will cast a shadow |
|
In our light |
|
|
|
Bring us the gifts |
|
From the deep ocean floor |
|
And rise to the surface |
|
Like never before |
|
Relecting the color |
|
Of treasure once lost |
|
The sun will cast a shadow |
|
In our light |
|
|
|
Are we sick of settling? |
|
Is it because we're doomed? |
|
There's a nervous kind of energy |
|
It slowly fills the room |
|
When you think |
|
You've worn your welcome |
|
You've worn it pretty thin |
|
Starting at the end |
|
But you're ready to begin |
|
|
|
Don't you make it nervous |
|
It doesn't want to shake |
|
There's an effect of a ripple |
|
When you travel in its wake |
|
And it's sleeping like a giant |
|
Head upon the floor |
|
Be careful not to wake it |
|
When you're opening the door |
|
|
|
.. |
