Blackbirds flying backwards on the wind Filling sails of sailing boats That won't sail home again Four and twenty wings upon the night Somewhere a lover sings a song with no reply Fireflies on fire in Mason jars You hung them from the trees And pretended they were stars A thousand little lights all in your eyes But in the morning, all those little lights had died And now the phantom blood of memory Fills the vessel of your pale white cheek But is the apple of your cloudy eye The one you sent away or the one you left behind? He walked you down the lane and back again Underneath the garden wall You buried soldiers made of tin And though the other boys were all so cruel He was the one that you played for a fool Minutes made of moments, days of hours They covered him in chains And they locked him in a tower But in the dead of night, he'd coax the dove To deliver you a gentle song of love And now the phantom blood of memory Fills the vessel of your pale white cheek But is the apple of your cloudy eye The one you sent away or the one you left behind?