Thursday

Lyrics

You are my blanked out pages,
All the wasted spaces.
The old weapons vanished,
Spit blood at dawn, closed forever.
You're an ivory icon
Held in glass, captive.
You're a falling column,
Sharp little teeth kiss goodnight.

He was upside and drifting in an endless ocean of night.
The terror came in waves, each one pushing him further from the shore.

You are a fractured mirror,
Silver paper in the wind,
A desperate measure,
Sharp little circuits of fever.
I can feel the unslept hours,
See all the traces,
I can hear the ticking of clocks.
Old record running down,
You can't replace it
You get distracted by the sound.

He hears an ocean in the dial tone, every night, after the sleeping pill goes down.
He wants to believe that he doesn't exist, he's everywhere and he's nowhere all at once.

We'll fill the blanked out page.
We'll burn the traces.
We'll turn the unslept hours to days.
Old record running down,
We'll flip it over and sing the songs we've never heard.
Now.
Now.
Now.
Now.