“My father says there’s only one perfect view - and that’s the view of the sky over our heads” “I expect your father has been reading Dante”
See my solitude, where once was truth now only doubt Touch my tortured skin, torn from within and from without Kiss my blistered lips, my fingertips frost-bitten and grey Heal my wound within, and watch the dead skin fall away
See what can’t be seen, between the table and the chair Touch what can’t be touched, The National Trust don’t own the air Kiss what can’t be kissed, this is the risk we have to take Heal what can’t be healed, and feel the dead skin fall away
Only you and I know exactly how it feels To unblinker a narrow mind And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life The intensity of dreams Only you and I have realised exactly what it means
See the infant sun, whose time has come to climb the mist Touch the autumn sky, burned by the supernaturalist Kiss the purest lips, the morning slips into the day Rising from the bed, we feel our dead skin fall awayTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
