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Beyond the song that came before |
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Before the song that's still to come |
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A stillness comes, a stillness comes |
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There's still, still more to come |
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Back in the town where we were born |
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Just past the corner grocery store |
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Down littered pathways well explored |
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Across the garden and through the door |
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Inside a box under the floor |
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Tucked in a long-forgotten drawer |
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In letters written long before |
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In words that ask what words are for, what these dreams are for |
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The morning after the downpour |
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An unrequested last encore |
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In missives sent in semaphore |
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To friends you don't call anymore |
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Between the water and the shore |
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Beneath the skin, outside the core |
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Among the virgins and with the whores |
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The stillness sounds its silent roar |
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For bodies withered, wrinkled, worn |
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That faith and time cannot restore |
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Behind the eyes you once adored |
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Behind the eyes you once adored |
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Behind the eyes you once adored |
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Behind the eyes you once adored |
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After the fire, between the wars |
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Inside the mind that still keeps score |
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Of synchronies and metaphors of patterns you cannot ignore |
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'Cause there will be more, yes there will be more |
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All through her hair and in her pores |
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In folds of clothing well explored |
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She asks you, do you still want more? |
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Do you still want more? |
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Do you still want more? |
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Do you still want more? |
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Do you still want more? |
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Do you still want more? |
