song of the night

[thebrokenarrows]

I dreamed you were a cosmonaut
of the space between our chairs
And I was a cartographer
of the tangles in your hair

I sang the song that silence sings;
it's the one that everybody knows.
Oh, everybody knows the song
that silence brings.
And this
this is how it goes:...

These looms that weave apocrypha,
they're hanging from a strand.
These dark and empty rooms were full
of effervescent hands

Awkward pause
Fatal flaws
Time, it's a crooked bow.
Oh, time's a crooked bow.

In time you need to learn to love
the ebb just like the flow.

Grab hold of your bootstraps, oh, and pull like hell
until gravity feels sorry for you,
and lets you go.
Until you lack the proper chemicals to know
the way it felt the last time you let yourself
fall this low
Time... it's a crooked bow!

... Fifty-five and three-eighths years later
at the bottom of this gigantic crater,
an armchair calls to you.
Yeah, this armchair calls to you,
and it says that, someday,
we'll get back at them all
with epoxy and a pair of pliers.
As ancient sea slugs began to crawl
through the ragweed and barbed wire.

You didn't write, you didn't call!
I didn't cross your mind at all!
Oh, through the waves
the waves of AM squall
You didn't feel anything at all
You're fifty-five and three-eighths tall!
Fifty-five and three-eighths tall
Tall...

Time...