NEWS DISCOGRAPHY ORDERS PHOTOS LYRICS CONTACT
I could find a willow tree with leaves so feathery. I could hide inside its arms. I could keep a vow of silence forever here.
Forget me there. Hear my prayer. It's all inside your velvet skin. Once is never not enough for me. Hope is never not a wistful dream.
I could know the morning light that scars my thoughts at night. I could find us our new home in a burrow dug in fields so overgrown.
It's not a simplified mistake. It's not an easy path to take. It's not a rope around your heart. It's not the place for us to start. It's not a weight that you can bear. It's not the flicking of your hair. It's not the time for me to show. It's not just something you can know.
Sleeping like the dead in series. Floating all your nonsense theories. Keeping safe the tender-hearted. Hair is brushed and neatly parted now.
Take another step back. Listen in on your friends, taking care to never let them suspect a lack of trust. Itís a shock when the morning comes, another shock when the day is done. Take me to bed now, arching your eyebrow. The days never slow down. Donít show your fear around me.
The house at night has got its own appeal. Pools of light amongst the dark reveal the rooms so quiet when the TVís off. Your eyes are lit up like a molotov. But Iím always wrong when I think Iíve got your number, and youíre far too strong to make me ever wonder why you think itís time. We all keep getting older, and you think itís time. I wonít cry on your shoulder anymore.
This time a year ago, you quit your job, moved all your furniture into our garage. I often think about what you left behind as you sleep next to me in bed at night. Taking one last look at the photos Iím erasing now, one last look at the life weíre going to disavow. I always look away. Yeah, Iíd make an awful soldier Ďcause I always look away. And I might still need your shoulder if I can.
Itís an easy game to play as the time we have just wastes away. Itís the hardest thing to a mind astray. Theyíre the hardest words to say: someday soon.
The house at night has never put you at ease. All the shadows only taunt and tease. The roomís so quiet when the TVís off. The dusty shelves just make you choke and cough. But Iím always wrong when I think things are forever, and Iím always wrong when I think of something clever that I should have said. We all keep getting older. What I should have said is: this night keeps getting colder, so take my hand.
Will you open your throat among the thorns for your own reasons? Will you mind if we pause and listen in and learn something? When youíre done, will you bow your greying head, your frightful bright eyes? Will I love you more than yesterday? Can I? Can we?
There is no end to conversation. There is no end to passion songs. There is no end to melodies that say we belong here, that say we belong here. You and I, we belong here.
Will you climb a tree and claim this patch for you and me? Will you sing the words I wrote for you last night?
ďYour clocks,Ē you say, ďare always ticking. Your boss,Ē you say, ďis always talking. You phone,Ē you say, ďis always bleating. You donít have to listen. You donít have to listen. You donít have to listen. You donít have to listen.Ē