I think it is the hardest when I see you look at her in a way I thought was only meant for me inspired by me and my heart is black and heavy it is slags of Merthyr Tydfil and it heaves once and then it sighs once and then there's nothing more... so I walk on through the marshes and my cheeks are burning white and my hood is your rejection and my pain is your connection and a bird I don't recall called don't recall called don't recall and I know you must be there because people stop to talk to you... and the wind howls cross the ice floes and the frozen furrows quicken as I stumble to the tundra and the tundra is my lover and I lie here and I wait here and I raise one arm unto the sky and if I raise it high enough and hold it long enough will the snow pull me back through?... and it's Beddgelert and frozen dirt the snow a soothing, smoothing, soothing hand so I ate a star from the far back, black sky and it floated up behind one eye and wavered there...
it`s clear to me now I understand a jump of cards in an idle man`s hand oh...you`re sleeping this is the story of your leaving I can win you with reason I can make you agree the way that I love you it only makes sense that you love me but down through the sad facts I`m sifting you did not think this without help from me I`ve called a taxi it`s coming at dawn I said send the best one it`s a long, long, lonely ride to find the perfect lover for your lover and the morning light is breaking I thought I heard someone screaming outside but it was just a bus pulling away love is a strange thing it depends what one gives and sometimes to give means give someone away oh ... you`re sleeping the same sad pillow said you`re leaving I move with your breathing I breathe with your beauty your sweet heaviness your deep voice your soft neck I press my face .did you call me?... it`s only the trees outside flailing it`s only the sirens that are wailing hurry up driver you`re going too slow can`t you go faster it`s a long, long, lonely ride to find the perfect lover for your lover and the morning light is breaking and then you realize you are alone and your skin against the cold metal of awareness you fall into a deeper dreamless slumber and a stranger enters the room and is struck by the transparency of your cheeks and then your arms and hands and wonders at the waxen figure and walks out again the stranger walks out into the street watching cars pass and people cross and scenery change he sees a palm frond thinks how ugly - is surprised by the violence of the thought looks again at it feels nothing and walks on a deep and dreamless slumber where only the slow pulse in the waxen temples keeps vigil
Fear and Apathy in Pinewood Valley