You Hung Your Lights In The Trees/A Craftsman's Touch - Wire

What crime is on your record?

When did you lose your wings?

Are your memories chequered?

Do you still dream of having all those things?

Having all of those things?

I want no part of the betrayal

If you should succeed or if you fail

It’s you who worries me Spring withers and summer smothers

My portrait casts its skin mile after yellow mile

On the walls, thin layers, oily traces

Preserved and exhibited down the stairs

A medicine finish, a craftsman’s touch

That’s how many came to grief

What time is it on your planet?

What time is it in your heart?

In your past deeds did you plan it?

How far are we apart?

For those who could not flee

Belief in a promised release

You hung your lights in the trees

That’s how many came to grief