| Tin aeroplanes trace the time
|
| Past our fading window’s eyes
|
| And the panes are pains inside
|
| Through which we see
|
| All the glories fast unfold
|
| All the joys lo and behold
|
| It’s a bitter-sweet dark secret
|
| That we keep
|
| Bold children of the air
|
| Swoop and fighting feathers fly
|
| Leave the hue and cry
|
| Behind and far below
|
| In the room behind the door
|
| Like a ghost who walks the floor
|
| I go searching for a trace
|
| Of wing or beak
|
| And feel so weak for a while
|
| From your passionate smile
|
| Hear the wind beneath the trees
|
| It’s the soundtrack of my dreams
|
| And the song it sings
|
| Is of the earth and sky
|
| All the sleepers who awake
|
| Know too well the poisoned taste
|
| It’s a sweet disease
|
| That carries me away
|
| Cold fountains in the dark
|
| Pass beneath your shining arc
|
| Oh part of me is crystal too
|
| And dances free
|
| In the marble mausoleum
|
| In the shadows I can see them
|
| Lovers
|
| Blue bed spread they give me head
|
| Oh how I bled
|
| When they said that the rose had no thorns
|
| Tin aeroplanes trace the time
|
| Past our fading windows eyes
|
| And the panes are pains inside
|
| Through which we see |