|
Three, four
As someone sets light to the first fire of autumn
We settle down to cut ourselves apart
Cough and twitch from the news on your face
And some foreign candle burning in your eyes
Held to the past, too aware of the pending
Chill as the dawn breaks and finds us up for sale
Enter the fog, another low road descending
Away from the cold lust, your house and summertime
Blind to the last curse of the fair, pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed 'til the sun turns into wood, dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting love
Your name on my cast and my notes on your stay
Offer me little but doting on a crime
We've turned every stone and for all our inventions
In matters of love loss, we've no recourse at all
Blind to the last curse of the fair, pistols and countless eyes
A trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running
Feed 'til the sun turns into wood, dousing an ancient torch
Loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting
Lose yourself in lines dissecting love
|
|
