| The train’s motion
|
| Untidy echo
|
| And she pants
|
| She asked me why I’m here
|
| But I come here every night
|
| Do you need to tell her something?
|
| No, I need a place to write
|
| And as the sea of darkness forms
|
| And casts us into night
|
| You ask me what her name was called
|
| But I found it hard to write
|
| One time I was impaled forlorn
|
| And thrown into a pile
|
| I said you know where I’m coming from
|
| And she looked me in the eye
|
| Loverboy, you drown too quick
|
| You’re fading out of sight
|
| Is it the numb density?
|
| Can’t even look her in the eye
|
| Where tiny men have been absorbed
|
| For questioning the sky
|
| To when and where the stars were formed
|
| That glance upon this night
|
| Light-years to sit upon
|
| And paint us as we lie
|
| And to think it’s us she’s wasted on,
|
| Can’t even look her in the eye
|
| See I’ve found a new place to mourn
|
| She asked me who died
|
| Well if there’s a dark uniform
|
| I need a place to hide
|
| As simple as his faith had gone
|
| The burning of the spire
|
| And yet he still searched for warmth
|
| But it was cold by the fire
|
| She grips me tight, she grips me tight
|
| But I still rip at the seams
|
| I can’t sleep at night, never slept at night
|
| But she still sits in my dreams
|
| I’m out of sight, so out of sight
|
| But she sees what I see
|
| She’s watching me
|
| She’s still watching me
|
| She still sees what I see
|
| The train’s motion
|
| Untidy echo |