Pebble Video (MV)

The air that seeps into my nostrils smells like decay
It smells like the minutes as they wink and pass away
Or the smoke of a thousand pages I've failed to read
Or a question unasked, or a long-neglected creed

The clothes that need ironing grumble from their perch on the chair
The people in the posters fix the opposite wall with their stare
The words that they've not said to me seem to ring round my head
As solitude makes love to itself inside my bed

And is alone
And stale
And rotting to the bone

And the bones themselves turn to pebbles beneath the weight
Of fistfuls of dreams that they've failed to create
But even those pebbles with a polish and a light
May shine like the moon on this short summer's night

The sounds that pour into my ears are fuzzy and cold
The dusty vibrations of a dead man's vocal-folds
A song that never got written, was never set free
As solitude duets in splintered harmony

And is alone
And stale
And rotting to the bone

And the bones themselves turn to pebbles beneath the weight
Of fistfuls of dreams that they've failed to create
But even those pebbles with a polish and a light
May shine like the moon on this short summer's night

Now morning comes round with that glint in its eye
That draws from my lung a long-overdue sigh

Birds ride upon the thermals
Some dropping and flitting back up to the branches
Crimson first suggests itself

And you can see now the pebbles beneath the sun
Light and precious still
Light and precious still
Beneath the burning of the sun