Humalogue

Eye to the rose, hand to the thorn
Now all that I reached for, all that I touched, seems torn
Like a seed in the desert, waiting for the fall
Sweet dreams of the forest standing tall
Falling… falling, no rope for my soul

And you walked through the mirrors, no blink of an eye
A hand with an offer and a world full of kind
In the shadow of your skin and all that shines within
The senses, the silence and the moon
Cast me from this waiting room

And not a moment too soon you take my hand
With trust the size of a child’s, fragile and free…

Wash out the bitter, wash out out the hurt – wash out the cold
Wash out the memories, those stories untold
And like the sun that thinks it never shines
Out of the blue… that beautiful colour of you

Out of the blue… sweet dreams of a watered sky
Sweet dreams of reason… of not to cry

As we walk we tremble, new things and the fears
November blows through.. it’s cold and there’s only standing-room
In the shelter of your skin and all that shines within
Not a moment too soon… that beautiful colour of you

In the shadow of your skin and all that shines within
The senses, the silence and the moon
Not a moment too soon, the sun that thinks it never shines
That beautiful colour… of you.