The town is crouching A field of windmills waits, their stupid heads turning Stirring the night's bath
Bundles of vapour hang over the factories Whose lights blink and loll like sleepy eyelids The moth in the lighthouse breathes with its prehistoric parts I feel the night snicker.
It was here, Tangled among the litter and old Valentines I found my coma leaking A branch punched a hole In the quiet that was keeping me and Suddenly All the sleep fell out
Rolling over the hills in a dark warm wave Voices of the orphan choirs threaten to overwhelm Speeding through the skeletons of trees Pulling their bodies bent
The wind's terrible symphony tore out my longing by the toes My ears were emptied and renamed The balm slid off like a bubble of oil and Died pitifully under the choirmaster's heel I was gutted and clinging on like a dish rag ---
But so on fire with believing That when the storm introduced itself I put my finger in its mouthTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
