In a white room with black curtains, by the stations.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moonbeams, in your dark eyes.
Dawn-light smiles on you leaving, my contentment.
I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
You said no strings could secure you at the station.
Platform ticket, restless diesels, goodbye windows.
I walked into such a sad time at the station.
When I walked out, felt my own need just beginning.
I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wounds now forgotten.
Yellow tigers crouched in jungles in het dark eyes.
She's dressing, goodbye windows, tired starlings.
I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.
