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gently in these ragged folds
curled up and warm like easter's child
a breath so faint, angelic weight
i can't deny
that i drift sometimes
even in these loving moments
to summery fields i call my own
where i can lie and in them feel
at one with my death
with limbs outstretched
i can't deny
that i'm weak sometimes
even in my strongest moments
and the way you cry at me
i don't know why
you stay
curled up and warm like easter's child
a breath so faint, angelic weight
that i drift sometimes
even in these loving moments
to summery fields i call my own
where i can lie and in them feel
at one with my death
with limbs outstretched
that i'm weak sometimes
even in my strongest moments
and the way you cry at me
i don't know why
you stay
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beautiful
gosh. i hope mark has settled down with a good woman and they treat each other good.
Lyrically and musically, splendid !
And yet, it hurts... How can a songwriter be more sincere and cruel about himself ?
We might say that these lyrics, in both construction and expression, form the thematic quintessence of the Red House Painters. The sentiment within these words seems to echo within each of the band's songs in a definitive sense, even if only in faint whispers.