|
See my solitude |
|
Where once was truth now only doubt |
|
Touch my tortured skin |
|
Torn from within and from without |
|
Kiss my blistered lips |
|
My fingertips frost-bitten and grey |
|
Heal my wound within |
|
And watch the dead skin fall away |
|
See what can't be seen |
|
Between the table and the chair |
|
Touch what can't be touched |
|
The national trust don't own the air |
|
Kiss what can't be kissed |
|
This is the risk we have to take |
|
Heal what can't be healed |
|
And feel the dead skin fall away |
|
Only you and i know exactly how it feels |
|
To unblinker a narrow mind |
|
And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life |
|
The intensity of dreams |
|
Only you and i have realised exactly what it means |
|
See the infant sun |
|
Whose time has come to climb the mist |
|
Touch the autumn sky |
|
Burned by the supernaturalist |
|
Kiss the purest lips |
|
The morning slips into the day |
|
Rising from the bed |
|
We feel our dead skin fall away |