Paper Field - Seven Minutes | Текст песни

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• Paper Field
• Seven Minutes

it turns seven minutes to midnight
when i remember
the wind over the bridge
and the figure
wary and slender
and it asks eternally
are you the lantern
will i find the way
or is there a way at all
through every pattern

and i long to hear its voice
to aggregate with something out there
so much bigger
and i’m sprouting all around
hoping that one tiny burgeon
will make it through the ground

and the early autumn twilight
seems to mock me
seems to bring it up
all that should have been so long abandoned
and you try, oh you try so hard
to bring me to senses
you’re trying to wake me up
but the house is empty
the boat is stranded

and there’s nothing but its voice
there’s nothing but its ancient calling
from the abysm
i’ve been sprouting all around
hoping that one tiny burgeon
would make it through the ground

but ain’t it tiresome
to never grow
attachments way out
of your control


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