|
drifting away from you
|
spinning down to the pinpoint drop of isolation
|
in a spell
|
walking away from the fire
|
that keeps my heart
|
from turning ice
|
|
golden feet grace the surface of the sea
|
sinking deeper i view them from underneath
|
flailing, kicking as i head for the deep
|
i question a hypothetical lead supper
|
oh God receive my outstretched hand
|
|
will i inhale the blue
|
spinning down upon the glass
|
a ghost towards realization of a cell
|
enclosing the hauntings of a past
|
that blind the eyes
|
and rust the heart
|
|
so i fell
|
i need you to take my hand
|
and keep my heart from ice...
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Drifting
|
| sixpence none the richer |
