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find a pine tree up in the hills |
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with a hole that's silent and dark |
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place your hands and stand as you feel |
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whisper secrets into her heart |
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small black stones with glass at their edge |
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soft red squares that sigh as they bleed |
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yellow curves shaped just like a girl |
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wood-cut discs that nobody sees |
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tell me frankly, tell me again |
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what you told me out on the street |
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all these trap doors slip behind time |
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drag like cans on strings on your feet |
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open up your tin of cold soup |
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heat it up with bread from the shop |
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sit in front of jeremy kyle |
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wonder when the secrets will stop lock your secrets inside a tree |
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let it grow for one hundred years float your thoughts far off out to sea store them |
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up in pelican's tears |
