There's no sound, no one around
|
Half the sun's gone underground
|
All the dead still hold their heads
|
But their old weeping won't resound
|
As we drag our western talks
|
Down thousand year old blocks
|
Vesuvius looks ashamed
|
That he ever lost his mind
|
And that people now spend time excavating his rage
|
Kiss my mouth, leave me no doubts
|
With antiquated gestures now
|
There's no sound, no one around
|
That lurid moon in peeking out
|
And your steps they seem to rhyme
|
So perfectly with mine
|
As we pass through ancient gates
|
And I'm whistling at stray dogs
|
And you're laughing on my arm
|
Just waiting for the train
|
Out by parallel lines I try to make sense
|
Of that strange pulsing there in my wrist
|
But you don't bother to guess
|
You're not confused to be blessed
|
You're just smiling so thankful to exist
|
|
-----------------
|
Parallel Lines
|
| Dear and the Headlights |
