Blur

I don’t say much, I keep an apple in my eye
As a lost soul modern day catcher in the rye
So ask a passer-by if he’s ever had hope
And if he knows what it’s like to drink with a glass throat
And as the land slopes above the half cracked road
It rolls like the strokes of the last van gogh
And as those sad black crows cry for a summer’s kiss
The dew drips softly off your lost lover’s lips
And suddenly you’re back at the start of this riddle
And she’s there by the broken tree, carving your initials
Throwing stones by the water’s edge and watching all the ripples
Drinking wine, only to throw the bottle to the river
And for all this life’s but a heart beating in your chest
With the world on your shoulders and an evening to confess
And all you need is rest, but you’re too tired to sleep
Let yourself drift away towards the lights in the deep

(Echo Murmur)

Between the days of love and where the graves are cut
There’s Hollie drinking raindrops from a paper cup
Star spinning in the field with the lady bugs
Eyes strange and young face full of angel dust
She’s a black and white movie in 1923
A theatre with the reel running to the empty seats
Pure nothing laughing underneath these open skies
Where you can scream as loud as you can and there’s no reply
Where you can close your eyes, smell the cloves and glide
Barefoot through the clover in the lonely night
She’s your broken bride in her ironed dress
Hair spinning in the mist and it’s fire red
So in autumn Hollie’s nothing but the falling leaves
Falling free for God a forgotten dream
Lost to me, across November bloom
Curled up Christ-like in the crescent moon