The lights of the ashes smoulder through hills and vales
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Nostalgia burns in the hearts of the strongest
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Picasso is painting the ships in the harbour
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The wind and sails
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These are years with a genius for living
|
|
The rope is cut, the rabbit is loose
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(Fire at will in this open season)
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The blood of a poet, the ink in the well
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(It's all written down in this age of reason)
|
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The animals run through harvested fields of fire
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The bitterness shown on the face of the homeless
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Picasso is painting the flames from the houses
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The sudden rain
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These are years with a genius for living
|
|
The rope has been cut, the rabbit is loose
|
(Fire at will in this open season)
|
The blood of a poet, the ink in the well
|
(It's all written down in this age of reason)
|
|
Fire at will
|
|
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The Ink in the Well
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| David Sylvian |
