Just behind that wall, I think, | |
She pulls her stockings on: | |
The creaking floor speaks through the door | |
Of one foot then the other | |
The curtains wave a flag to say | |
This afternoon is done | |
And giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother, | |
Giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother | |
Just outside the window | |
Time has slipped its skin, | |
A fallen glove behind you, love, | |
My shadow never moving | |
The ground will rise to meet me | |
Right where my knees begin, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing | |
Crows and then another crow | |
Beside me in a tree, | |
Like black shoes in a dusty row | |
Trailing after me | |
My hands are wet from walking, | |
But I'm high enough to see | |
The stars that wait below me | |
Where my hat has fallen free … | |
Out above the rooftops | |
The moon is holding sway; | |
A narrow eye low in the sky, | |
Knowing what I'm knowing | |
I have left the table now | |
And this is just to say; | |
Every song I've ever sung | |
Has bee a song for going |
Just behind that wall, I think, | |
She pulls her stockings on: | |
The creaking floor speaks through the door | |
Of one foot then the other | |
The curtains wave a flag to say | |
This afternoon is done | |
And giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother, | |
Giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother | |
Just outside the window | |
Time has slipped its skin, | |
A fallen glove behind you, love, | |
My shadow never moving | |
The ground will rise to meet me | |
Right where my knees begin, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing | |
Crows and then another crow | |
Beside me in a tree, | |
Like black shoes in a dusty row | |
Trailing after me | |
My hands are wet from walking, | |
But I' m high enough to see | |
The stars that wait below me | |
Where my hat has fallen free | |
Out above the rooftops | |
The moon is holding sway | |
A narrow eye low in the sky, | |
Knowing what I' m knowing | |
I have left the table now | |
And this is just to say | |
Every song I' ve ever sung | |
Has bee a song for going |
Just behind that wall, I think, | |
She pulls her stockings on: | |
The creaking floor speaks through the door | |
Of one foot then the other | |
The curtains wave a flag to say | |
This afternoon is done | |
And giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother, | |
Giving in to evening who has | |
Beat him like a brother | |
Just outside the window | |
Time has slipped its skin, | |
A fallen glove behind you, love, | |
My shadow never moving | |
The ground will rise to meet me | |
Right where my knees begin, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing, | |
The sun will slip between them now | |
To button my undoing | |
Crows and then another crow | |
Beside me in a tree, | |
Like black shoes in a dusty row | |
Trailing after me | |
My hands are wet from walking, | |
But I' m high enough to see | |
The stars that wait below me | |
Where my hat has fallen free | |
Out above the rooftops | |
The moon is holding sway | |
A narrow eye low in the sky, | |
Knowing what I' m knowing | |
I have left the table now | |
And this is just to say | |
Every song I' ve ever sung | |
Has bee a song for going |