We climb the dusty stairwells of your cavernous heart
furnished with outsider art
like that picture of a man
tearing the heart out of a soldier boy
with all the unreachable grace of heron
this glorious felon.
They said his chains turned to roses
and he fled in the night
up to heaven up to eternal delight
whilst down hear we just wonder
and fall over in the rain
blush at what makes us most human
but try to feel everything
and with my fingers on your pulse
I find the beat that I need
to kick of my boots and dance through the wires
that tangle right through to the light that someday will expire
but for now it fires up your soul.
And here we are again travailing the arteries of innocence
the days lost to romance
the swallows circling high above the town square
singing that top-line melody to your songs of despair
And look up at that clock tower see how it chimes away
all these obsolete ideas about how we move through the day
and lay chained to the night frozen in fright
tearing through the darkness while the moon shines bright.
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