The icons cluttering your bureau are eyeing me as I walk in. Your guardians are present in here and I trust that they have always been. Hiding somewhere in your closet, collecting moisture from your face, your secret world speaks without words and I feel clumsy and cumbersome in this place
But if I want them too will they speak to me soon
In a language ripe for my listening?
When the harsh sun breaks in your stained glass eyes
The refracted light keeps glistening
A drapery of clashing fabrics in every corner of your room. They hung like lace on the whitewashed face of the walls that are begging you to move and leave the things that hold a history as if they're present in your will. A brand new place a few miles away but I just wasn't sure I was staying still
But if you choose this too it's an honest move
And I guess that it makes for no deferences
There's a gleam of blue from a cold night's moon
Just a touch too soon, Two Deliverances
On an empty panel floor I lie here for communion just waiting for one more, but in the quiet empty hours of my afternoon, what am I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do? But if I want them to, will they come to me soon? Will they fluctuate between midnight and past noon? Was kind of banking on a future that'd be involving you but I couldn't ask this of you, I couldn't ask this
In this young night's sky there are pinhole lights
Find the shape of a harp and an arrowhead
Do I hear your tunes or acknowledge wounds
That I got from rubbing elbows with a sharpened edge?
But if I choose this too does it count as my move?
I can't drop my history just to become new
Now I'm swimming through the nothingness and the absolute
But I couldn't ask this of you, I couldn't ask this