| Going down like a diving bell
|
| 55 fathoms deep
|
| Drawing nothing from a dried out well
|
| Can’t gather me to myself
|
| Nothing of myself I wanna keep
|
| Through a landscape ill-defined
|
| Ground shifts beneath my feet
|
| No lock or door stays untried
|
| Can’t gather me to myself
|
| Nothing of myself I wanna keep
|
| Living with a memory of the flame
|
| A flame of fractured light
|
| Wonderin' why she backed away
|
| Just when the storm, the storm
|
| Was at its height
|
| Feeling like a burned-out car
|
| Sitting on forgotten street
|
| Broken pieces is how things are
|
| Can’t gather me to myself
|
| Nothing of myself I wanna keep
|
| Living with a memory of the flame
|
| A flame of fractured light
|
| Wonderin' why she backed away
|
| Just when the storm, the storm
|
| Was at its height |