In a scene from better times Your traitor hangs up right there next to mine. The afternoon shakes down the trees Like they owed it money –hey buddy, please: Get in line— Their promise of green fruit is gone, It's bruised out there on the lawn; He who cannot be seduced cannot be saved… I hang ready to be swayed
Our hunger to be new begins But slips the yoke like it was a second skin; It's walking back the shadow moon As if on a string, A listing black balloon— That turns its face and mounts the wall To show a slower way to fall; Oh, you hold me by a thread and fall away… I stand hungry to be swayed
I'm torn to think this storm will rise, Already it's tattered my sail and thin disguise. I 've bent my song like broken words Could call to me your whirling, Skittish birds— I write to you, Dear stranger mine… But stranger still, the hand of time Has laid its ragged coat across our way… I lie ready to be swayedTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
