| The cushioned throbbing of a velvet moon
|
| And the pregnant aching of an empty womb
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| The endless echoes of the noise we made
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| And the repercussions of each hand grenade
|
| There’s aeroplanes and dragonflies
|
| And infinite September skies
|
| There’s anthems of utopias
|
| And creeping wars and glaciers
|
| Just listen…
|
| Is there music in there?
|
| Arrived within the creeping hearse
|
| Vibrations from the universe
|
| Awash with the glittering of city lights
|
| The mouse choir whispered through the endless nights
|
| All alone to ride upon the froth
|
| The human dreamt of taking off
|
| Eventually, time corrodes the brain to rust
|
| And all those dreams into diamond dust
|
| Just listen…
|
| Violins and orchestras
|
| For death and speculation
|
| We’ve got just enough time
|
| I felt the closeness of monsters as we slept
|
| And the creaking of hands where masons met
|
| The loneliness of a shooting star
|
| And the beating of drums where the wild things are
|
| And somewhere beneath the moon
|
| A sonic boom, peeled off from a wing
|
| Into the dark, into each heart
|
| I heard the angel sing:
|
| «Que sera sera —
|
| Whatever will be will be»
|
| For death and speculation
|
| Well there’s just enough time
|
| For each final seperation
|
| We’ve got just enough time
|
| Away on the breeze
|
| My evanescent memories
|
| Well I can feel them
|
| But I can’t remember them
|
| Well I can feel them
|
| Slipping away |