David Sylvian - The Last Days of December | Текст песни

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• David Sylvian
• The Last Days of December

What shall we tell them?
A honeymoon brief as a walk in the park

What shall we tell them when they ask?
And they’ll ask
Could you not see another way out?

Was the place without sun?
Was it furnished in black?
With the ache of the gas-oven there at your back

The death angel paces in boredom and waits
It shrieks from dark corners undermining your faith

What shall we tell them when they ask?
And they will ask
Could you not see another way out?

Where were the cape and the coastline?
The wonderkid’s sunshine?

Your sanity shattered and climbing the walls
Wet towels at the floorline stuffed under the doors
And the beating of powder-black wings left you blind
The last days of December are the loneliest kind

In the exit you made there was no pause for thought
Cause the lies that I told were the lies that you bought
There was no place to find you nor you to be found
In the margins of books you were reading

There are stages to grieving that won’t let you down

Where was the coastline?
The wonderkid’s sunshine?

Under northern skies
Anonymous and free
Your nightfisherman pushes a boat out to sea
You’ll surely meet yours though his faith is unsound
There are stages to grieving that won’t let you down

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