A Hand At Dusk - Swan Lake

There’s a hand at dusk

In the wake in the water its mine

Can you take the palm of it

For every time you change your mind

You are the flesh of skin

Seen through the leaves of anxious trees

The summer’s touch just above the knee

Just above the knee

There’s architecture here

And there are mountain peaks

And places dwelled upon by those

Who climb much higher than me

Like so many miles you are compiled

Into books of maps by men with hands

Can you believe that we will all get old

It’s getting old i know, i know

I’ll hold your hair back when you’re sick

It’s getting old i know, i know

You still look good to me in that knee-length checkered dress

It’s getting old i know, i know

You still look good to me in that knee-length checkered dress

It’s getting old

It’s getting old

The emperor of time has been stationed

Devidends melts into all forms of light (?)

I shall crack his bone

And chase him to far shores of the sea

Implicate my dark appetite

The emperor of time has been stationed

When the paper ends, it melts into all forms of light (?)

I shall crush his bone

And chase him to the white shores of the sea

Implicate my appetite