And all in all I'm still a semaphore
Any more hours left in bed, well I'll take them all
Now to signify another month
So buried deep in guilt, yet so oddly out for blood
And like an age old plot
Cognate the catholic church
I'm found buried in her simony
They throw stones
I bury bones
Just to pick them back up again
Just to dig them back up again
You've got my hands tied
I'm not your catholic thrill
Only your lover
But in skin like sheets like sheep we'd sleep
But my slumber's gone for far too long
Well held in holy arms
And that 'blas-famous' tongue
Has found a space just well too placed on my neck
Aged with summer warmth but now its fall
Clipping feathers, glue together, just to stay afloat
I'm shooting blindly in a dovecote
All to be alone
Clipping feathers, glue together, just to stay afloat
I'm shooting blindly in a dovecote
All to be alone
Oh to be alone
And we'll go, to the creek and cast stones
Watch them sink with guilt to the floor
And we'll hold, the riverbed like open sheets
Don't slip in and forget to breathe