Song | Prophecies |
Artist | David Knopfler |
Album | Behind The Lines |
Release may come quite slowly | |
The shedding of a skin | |
She’s clinging to the mascarade | |
(And that which lies within) | |
The s-stuttering of puppets | |
The fluttering of wings | |
The final curtain closes | |
With the cutting of her strings | |
She needs a place to hide | |
She fears the Mannequin | |
Her bright and shiny mirror | |
Reflecting the strangest things | |
She sings “Come down to the lakeside | |
There were omens in the leaves | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
To those dark and swooping trees" | |
Are these flaws inside the shiny glass | |
Teardrops formed from a misty past? | |
Nothing really dies down here | |
And nothing ever lasts | |
No, it never lasts | |
She dreams about the Prince to come | |
And the prophecies of Kings | |
There’s a scratching at the railings | |
Screeching laughter rings | |
Nothing she can do but hide | |
The emptiness she feels inside | |
Waiting like the water | |
For the gift she knows he brings | |
Prophecies of violence | |
The touch of past mistakes | |
Teardrops fall to Order | |
The surface gently breaks | |
Come down to the boathouse | |
Where the water gently aches | |
One kiss in this silence . . . | |
This Princess never wakes | |
The beckoning lake - the threatening lake | |
Is all to come - is not too late | |
These prophecies move history | |
But darkly through the glass | |
Come with us to the other side | |
Where all the doors are open wide | |
The boatman waits for your reply | |
And all is yet to pass | |
Staring into the swirling glass | |
Doors open from a misty past | |
Nothing really dies down here | |
And nothing ever lasts | |
No, it never lasts. | |
Come down to the water | |
Madonna’s fateful daughter | |
Come down to the water | |
Where the hyacinths form wreaths | |
Come down to the lilies | |
There were omens in the tea leaves | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
To those dark and swooping trees | |
In whirling conversations | |
She feels a cold sensation | |
Reflecting in the mirror | |
Sees the Mannequin | |
Come with me to the water | |
The dark and swirling water | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
It’s for you | |
It’s for you these bells that ring. |
Release may come quite slowly | |
The shedding of a skin | |
She' s clinging to the mascarade | |
And that which lies within | |
The sstuttering of puppets | |
The fluttering of wings | |
The final curtain closes | |
With the cutting of her strings | |
She needs a place to hide | |
She fears the Mannequin | |
Her bright and shiny mirror | |
Reflecting the strangest things | |
She sings " Come down to the lakeside | |
There were omens in the leaves | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
To those dark and swooping trees" | |
Are these flaws inside the shiny glass | |
Teardrops formed from a misty past? | |
Nothing really dies down here | |
And nothing ever lasts | |
No, it never lasts | |
She dreams about the Prince to come | |
And the prophecies of Kings | |
There' s a scratching at the railings | |
Screeching laughter rings | |
Nothing she can do but hide | |
The emptiness she feels inside | |
Waiting like the water | |
For the gift she knows he brings | |
Prophecies of violence | |
The touch of past mistakes | |
Teardrops fall to Order | |
The surface gently breaks | |
Come down to the boathouse | |
Where the water gently aches | |
One kiss in this silence . . . | |
This Princess never wakes | |
The beckoning lake the threatening lake | |
Is all to come is not too late | |
These prophecies move history | |
But darkly through the glass | |
Come with us to the other side | |
Where all the doors are open wide | |
The boatman waits for your reply | |
And all is yet to pass | |
Staring into the swirling glass | |
Doors open from a misty past | |
Nothing really dies down here | |
And nothing ever lasts | |
No, it never lasts. | |
Come down to the water | |
Madonna' s fateful daughter | |
Come down to the water | |
Where the hyacinths form wreaths | |
Come down to the lilies | |
There were omens in the tea leaves | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
To those dark and swooping trees | |
In whirling conversations | |
She feels a cold sensation | |
Reflecting in the mirror | |
Sees the Mannequin | |
Come with me to the water | |
The dark and swirling water | |
Come on down to the lakeside | |
It' s for you | |
It' s for you these bells that ring. |