smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
what is left for encore
is the same old dead boy's song
sung in silence
all that great heart lying still and slowly dying
all that great heart lying still on an angel wing
a midnight flight into covington woods
a princess and a panther by my side
these are territories i live for
i'd still give my everything to love you more
a song of me a song in need
of a courageous symphony
a verse of me a verse in need
of a pure-heart singing me to peace
all that great heart lying still and slowly dying
all that great heart lying still on an angelwing
now all that great heart lying still
in silent suffering
smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
what is left for encore
is the same old dead boy's song
sung in silence
all that great heart lying still and slowly dying
all that great heart lying still on an angelwing
a silent symphony
a hollow opus #1
2
3
sometimes the sky is piano black
piano black over cleansing waters
resting pipes
verse of bore
rusting keys without a door
sometimes the within is piano black
piano black over cleansing waters
all that great heart lying still and slowly dying
all that great heart lying still on an angel wing
all that great heart lying still and slowly dying
all that great heart lying still on an angel wing
i see a slow
simple youngster by a busy street
with a begging bowl in his shaking hand. trying to smile but hurting infinitely. nobody notices. i do
but walk by. an old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic
it's half-light and he's in tears. when he finally cums his eyes are cascading. i see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. he tries to bite me. all pride has left his wild drooling eyes. i wish i had my leg to spare. a mother visits her son
smiles to him through the bars. she's never loved him more. an obese girl enters an elevator with me. all dressed up fancy
a green butterfly on her neck. terribly sweet perfume deafens me. she's going to dinner alone. that makes her even more beautiful. i see a model's face on a brick wall. a statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill. a city that worships flesh. the first thing i ever heard was a wandering man telling his story
it was you
the grass under my bare feet
the campfire in the dead of the night
the heavenly black of sky and sea
it was us
roaming the rainy roads
combing the guilded beaches
waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morn
bathing in places no-one's seen before
shipwrecked on some matt-painted island
clad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe
beyond all mortality we are
swinging in the breath of nature
in early air of the dawn of life
a sight to silence the heavens
i want to travel where life travels
following its permanent lead
where the air tastes like snow music
where grass smells like fresh-born eden
i would pass no man
no stranger
no tragedy or rapture
i would bathe in a world of sensation
love
goodness and simplicity
the thought of my family's graves was the only moment
i used to experience true love
that love remains infinite as i'll never be the man my father is
how can you just be yourself" when you don't know who you are?