|
The earth moves and the sun keeps still |
|
Bathwater tides come in |
|
A bird hits the window pane |
|
With a joyless sound |
|
That echoes round and round |
|
In your belly swim the spores |
|
We picked off the forest floors |
|
And if you must cry with grief |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
|
Dreams push out reality |
|
Sand kisses fingertips |
|
Ghosts sing behind your ear |
|
For the one you loved, who's never coming back |
|
In the bathtub swim the spores |
|
We picked off the forest floors |
|
And if you must cry with grief |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
|
Blow your nose right on my sleeve |
