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your hair is soft
white as dead grass
whispering, full of the eyes of old women

full of sighs
and hissing, the sea of your voice, it's long
skinny arm

you wait by the church doors, all fringe
and rags, your hands are beggars
they cry from the steps
as I pass.

like a treasure on a mountain, a dagger
honed in wind
high above the plain, you
tilt, as

by one, the clouds
rise from the sea
and cross
over Trapani...

the wind flicks a tongue in the eucalyptus
the fan glitters the hill

hooded mummer, wound
in fog
clasped like a lover in his secret flesh

slowly your mind
out of the gray rock
I follow you through a maze...
you draw me like the thought of my own death.

Lyrics submitted by cboulware

Fossil song meanings
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