| I can see you standing in the mist
|
| Like smoky black and grey
|
| Soft electric ribbons that you kissed
|
| Then gave them all away
|
| In your little room back behind the wall
|
| In your cobweb feather vest
|
| Though your tiny old prehistoric voice
|
| Much louder than the rest
|
| The window is broken
|
| And the shadow disappears into the night
|
| The memory unfrozen
|
| And the shadow greets the morning light
|
| Old excitements lingering for years
|
| Like fireflies in your hair
|
| Stamp the ground, raise a little cloud
|
| Throw your wings into the air
|
| The window is open
|
| And the shadow escapes into the night
|
| The memory unfrozen
|
| And the shadow greets the morning light
|
| I can see you standing in the mist
|
| Like smoky black and grey
|
| Soft electric ribbons that you kissed
|
| Then gave them all away
|
| The window is broken
|
| And the shadow escapes into the night
|
| The memory unfrozen
|
| And the shadow greets the morning light
|
| The window is open
|
| And the shadow escapes into the night
|
| The memory unfrozen
|
| And the shadow greets the morning light |