I don't expect a response from you and I
|
Won't try to elicit one
|
I stroke your walls as I prowl along
|
They seem to be so strong
|
Your windows are on their own they are
|
Letting in a steady blow
|
I can hear the wings of the locust
|
But it doesn't seem to matter much
|
|
[chorus]
|
I don't trust your corridors
|
Why do I hear the timber groan
|
|
I'm getting closer
|
Hitting rooms no light has shown
|
I like the fixtures
|
I adore the woodwork
|
I lay prone
|
Making out faces in the plaster
|
My fingers probing
|
The molding for a trigger
|
|
Volumes of polaroids
|
Commemorate
|
Nothing to speak of
|
To speak of
|
There are whole sections of this house
|
Not on the floor plan
|
And I will ransack 'til I find myself an entry
|
|
You can't afford to ley me go on searching for a motive
|
You've got to assure me
|
Don't allow me to doubt
|
Produce the passkey satisfy my suspicions
|
Will you trick me to co-author your plans
|
Elaborate plans
|
|
-----------------
|
Locust
|
| Tilt |
