I wouldn't call it dark, one spade, three spades I wouldn't call it light either, four spades pass, oh Oh, there go all my coins There's someone at the door, what was that?
There's water nearby, I can tell Drop down to or pass on by? Pass on by and after the meeting they asked me If I would like to become the conductor of their choir
I couldn't believe it, isn't it fantastic? It's not art, it's self-defense it, it captures him He has to capture it back, it's a power struggle, self-defense It's not art, not art, are these your coins? Oh, yeah
Did you sit down? Are you cold? No, I'm cold I mean, yes, grainy, I was thinking of something else Pretty cold, no, don't sound like you're reading It just sort of say it
There are mountains nearby, like you're moving through the night I can tell and it's grainy, I can hear the coins dropping on them Drop down to or pass on by? Pass on by has nothing to do with the church Because it is a choir from the church
But they say it doesn't matter We sing other songs as well beauty without scrutiny That's a true definition of it, I could tell it was beautiful Before I even saw it and I pressed through
The tourists swimming, swimming through The freezing pins to see and I couldn't see you Could say one more silent something Pressing through the graininess of night
I'm really longing forward to see you Now, let the music play for a while Grainy, grainy, this time I remembered to say I love you
And then we moved through a dark valley And then up into the sky and I said, look, look But there was not a speck to be seen But there's water nearby
There is a man, standing in a field Leans on his hoe, stares down the furrows Counts on his fingers, one more endless flight Of the inarticulate soul that he borrows
Vladimir, Vladimir, standing in the field Till he lines his sight along the furrows Waiting for the, waiting for the Waiting for the flight
Set against the fading light Waiting for his hand to put the hoe down Waiting for the, waiting for the Waiting for the flight