He says he wants to buy a metal shade
which they’ll never collide
she fills the room with dark blades of grass
that she couldn’t revive
the plastic trees of the wasted time
on a winter’s end are fading her mind
the crucifix on the liquor’s blue
hits the comforting of a transparent life
What twenty years at last will give?
She can’t make him stop
she can’t make her stop but he knows she will
she’s filtering the pastor’s truth
he’s fingering with her feelings’ glue
but the frequency could make’em stop
(this knot is standin’ still)
Giardini Di Mirò, "The Comforting Of A Transparent Life". Play it with this widget:
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