This Girl is a stencil of a brushstroke in the rain. She's a ghost of the city she's a body through the windscreen. This girl is the snowfall where the spring should have been.
Propped my eyes open with some chemistry. I've got a three hour drive and a man to see. The blue bruised sky is closing in. Cover up well because it looks like rain.
Enter my. November Boy. With eyes like the sea. The radio sings "Love Me Do". Yeah I agree. And I've used up. Every sentence that. Love has to offer. So silence or.
Your shadow has grown longer. The wind is at your back. They dressed you up so pretty. In red, white and black. . Roll the sixes gently. Consult the zodiac.
Through the iron winter to the fires of June. Through the five o'clock skyline to the deeadlocked moon. There's a flickering figure dancing alone. Making her junk creatures out of rags and bones.
Strip the sky I will hang out of the window. See its pink veneer. Hear the motorway soprano. And the Front Street road pitches to the river bank. The drivers side is hanging off and rusted.
We are late like a midnight train that's running nowhere. We are sticks we are stones we are broken bones we are hot air. We are under the guillotine trying to fix our hair.
Friday's humming summer. And the whiskey sun is running. out the night sky. I am here watching your form. Slowly pacing in the dawn. as all the stars die.