Albion II
Lick your finger making it electronic, making the twin ask questions
Blood on the cheek and death on the boats
We call for amnesty amongst these thieves
The horizon is long I can hear the voices from beyond it
Lullaby the dog to sleep, no one can put their finger on the silence
To think, we were once naked and hopeful
The pain in your head makes you claw at the clouds
The mercury has fallen lower than the state of your old life
Is this the story of you or me, of music and strangers?
Collars are pulled down, buttons are undone
I can see the stains on your skin
I can see the looks that you give to the people who are pretending
The actors of today and the parents of tomorrow
I stole my new name from the french poet imprisoned
I'm waiting for him to die, I'm waiting to understand
This is about to become, finally, real
And the music stops. There is nothing but the planets falling around the sun.
The silence makes me think of you sweating on the steps.
You weren't always this fashionable, you weren't always this paralysed.
I haven't failed to see the scars that your beauty has left on the world.
Are we looking for the same thing?
You were so lucky to have found the only thing that matters
I'm not alone in that I understand what was stolen and buried
And your friendships are not judgements of character
We fell from the language
We were born from words
I would drown for you in the myth that we created
I would stand high for the world that we would destroy
An empire without people
A kingdom that Champagne would keep afloat
Real life chooses the key in which it plays
We chose the seed that we would plant
And now the fruit is rotting at our feet
The light burns the soft skin off the sky
And you talk and sing of the stained life you have lead
When your head is full of Evelyn Waugh
And the music stops. There is nothing but a small door in a high wall.
The silence makes me think of your glance towards the ivy and the docks.
You weren't always this hazy, you weren't always this broken.
I haven't failed to hear the metaphors that you have graffitied your sentences with.
Im waiting for your songs of deliverance
I'm waiting for your imagination to bleach the brown
Loneliness is a disease for you and for me
You had something once, don't say never.
Blood on the cheek and death on the boats
We call for amnesty amongst these thieves
The horizon is long I can hear the voices from beyond it
Lullaby the dog to sleep, no one can put their finger on the silence
To think, we were once naked and hopeful
The pain in your head makes you claw at the clouds
The mercury has fallen lower than the state of your old life
Is this the story of you or me, of music and strangers?
Collars are pulled down, buttons are undone
I can see the stains on your skin
I can see the looks that you give to the people who are pretending
The actors of today and the parents of tomorrow
I stole my new name from the french poet imprisoned
I'm waiting for him to die, I'm waiting to understand
This is about to become, finally, real
And the music stops. There is nothing but the planets falling around the sun.
The silence makes me think of you sweating on the steps.
You weren't always this fashionable, you weren't always this paralysed.
I haven't failed to see the scars that your beauty has left on the world.
Are we looking for the same thing?
You were so lucky to have found the only thing that matters
I'm not alone in that I understand what was stolen and buried
And your friendships are not judgements of character
We fell from the language
We were born from words
I would drown for you in the myth that we created
I would stand high for the world that we would destroy
An empire without people
A kingdom that Champagne would keep afloat
Real life chooses the key in which it plays
We chose the seed that we would plant
And now the fruit is rotting at our feet
The light burns the soft skin off the sky
And you talk and sing of the stained life you have lead
When your head is full of Evelyn Waugh
And the music stops. There is nothing but a small door in a high wall.
The silence makes me think of your glance towards the ivy and the docks.
You weren't always this hazy, you weren't always this broken.
I haven't failed to hear the metaphors that you have graffitied your sentences with.
Im waiting for your songs of deliverance
I'm waiting for your imagination to bleach the brown
Loneliness is a disease for you and for me
You had something once, don't say never.
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