Rosalie
I've been waiting all evening
Possibly years i don't know
Counting the passing hours
Everything merges with the night
I stand on the beach
Giving out descriptions
Different for everyone i see
Since i just can't remember
Longer than last september.
Santiago
Under the volcano
Floats like a cushion on the sea
Yet i can never sleep here
Everything ponders in the night.
Rosalie
We've been talking all summer
Picking the straw from our clothes
See how the breeze has softened
Everything pauses in the night.
I've been waiting all evening
Possibly years i don't know
Counting the passing hours
Everything merges with the night
I stand on the beach
Giving out descriptions
Different for everyone i see
Since i just can't remember
Longer than last september.
Santiago
Under the volcano
Floats like a cushion on the sea
Yet i can never sleep here
Everything ponders in the night.
Rosalie
We've been talking all summer
Picking the straw from our clothes
See how the breeze has softened
Everything pauses in the night.
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everything
But isn't it funny how the part about the volcanoe seems to have a counterpart in reality? There's an island in the Galapagos called Santiago. It's formed from two volcanoes. And being an island, it "floats like a cushion on the sea" in a manner of speaking. Wonder if Eno had heard of the island... maybe couldn't sleep with the fear of volcanic activity.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/…