Head down in the rain
My walkman sings
Caught it in a paraphrase
The beast still stings
Feels like on the edge of an age
Where the scent of you still remains
In the valley, in the fey light
In the words that the record sings
She left a necklace and never retrieved it
I left a message meandering gently amidst our secrets
The clasp was broken, but you know me
I tend to keep the pieces
Shards in shoe boxes still sharp
Love and rockets, the shower sparks
White lightning in a mine shaft
It was black as a cold heart
Blacker than before
A glassy eyed Gordon Parks
Cyclops in its maze afraid
I hear sticks sharpen in the dark
Surrounded by the bones of those I slain
But God knows my heart
In between the trees
My echo plays
Brushing on the strings
That connect and constrain
Feels like on the edge of an age
Where the scent of you still remains
In the solder, in the ashtray
In the old book we put away
The pieces–, the pieces–
Tend to keep–
Message mean–
Message mean–
The pieces–, the pieces–
Tend to keep–
Message mean–
Message mean–
As a cold heart–
The pieces–
Tend to keep–
Message mean–
Message mean–
As a cold heart–
The pieces–
Tend to keep–
Message mean–
