| A silent woman parts her lips
|
| To speak before she ought
|
| She makes a cross of her emotions
|
| And a panic of her thoughts
|
| Out of her mouth she comes in rages
|
| Like Vesuvius in heat
|
| She runs ahead of her intentions
|
| Though she’s programmed for defeat
|
| By the hunger and the hatred
|
| The prostitution of her nature
|
| She has given and forgiven for to give her
|
| Kunt forgave her
|
| To the longing for a loving hand
|
| Or fist or cock or spike
|
| But you know you cannot reach her
|
| 'Til she’s taken back her life
|
| A lonely child of fourteen
|
| Finds her future in a drum
|
| She plays for present day omissions
|
| And for whom she must become
|
| Out of her passion breaks the stillness
|
| Of a solitary mind
|
| A strict devotion to the rhythm
|
| With a substitute for time
|
| She looks out of her window
|
| At the changes in the sky
|
| She never wants to leave her sanctuary
|
| Bedroom, books and lies
|
| But she’s grown up on the outside
|
| With an instinct for the pain
|
| That drives the men inside her wild
|
| And women wanting her insane
|
| Both lovers bring their cameras
|
| To the beach on New Year’s eve
|
| They are expecting nothing other
|
| Than to see what they believe
|
| Four feet walking toward the lighthouse
|
| In the freezing winter rain
|
| She flashes stately in the distance
|
| Humming her somnolent refrain
|
| «You are here now, you are here now
|
| There is nothing left to fear now
|
| «With each step the sunk is sinking
|
| Though the truth is less unclear now
|
| They have won a thousand battles
|
| They have wrung their own demise
|
| Now they are standing still and weeping
|
| For a love they can’t despise
|
| A silent woman and a lonely child
|
| Have nowhere else to go
|
| But to the lighthouse in December
|
| Before the New Year takes its toll
|
| They have found inside each other
|
| What they had lost within themselves
|
| Now they are bonded to forever
|
| In their search for something else
|
| Generations like the water
|
| Shape the face of every stone
|
| A pedigree’s an invitation
|
| To discover you’re alone
|
| Out in the kitchen or the courtyard
|
| Or the bedroom or the bank
|
| It only takes a fateful moment
|
| To become the one you thank
|
| And light shall lift them
|
| Higher and higher
|
| And dreams shall carry them on
|
| And loss shall lead them
|
| To life’s final hour
|
| Where death shall overcome |