| Time to burn, we could talk all the problems through…
|
| Are the promises still unbroken,
|
| do the spoken words still ring true?
|
| Oh, and where are you?
|
| Time to burn, wakes and weddings, celestial choirs,
|
| and while one hand shakes on the bargain
|
| see the other stoke the suttee pyre;
|
| so we’re all on fire,
|
| burning for tomorrow.
|
| So much time wish- and hoping,
|
| soon the future will come
|
| with a bridal wreath for the wedding
|
| in the hands of the prodigal son.
|
| So much left undone,
|
| here we are with time to burn.
|
| So much time wishful thinking,
|
| all the whitest of lies
|
| with the prodigal caught at the border
|
| and the order of service awry.
|
| No time for goodbyes,
|
| will we ever start to learn?
|
| Time to burn, wakes and weddings become confused,
|
| all the faces over-familiar
|
| in the whirlwind of deja-vu…
|
| Oh, but where are you?
|
| Time to burn, all our lifelines are gathered round
|
| with a speech from the back of a postcard
|
| all the memories free in one bound.
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| Free, and gone to ground,
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| free, and gone forever.
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| Free, and gone to ground,
|
| so I will remember
|
| so much lost and found.
|
| Here we are with time to burn. |