Benoît Pioulard
Shouting Distance
You'd cut a man down when his life is at its sweetestCos he yearns to be found where the lamplight's weakestThe picking of battles like new persimmonsNot high in the saddle but torn to ribbonsOh the time the tone will lag & rushTraced in placid places growing flushOh the time the tone will rush & lagPreside over design with smoldered dragsA mural of moments of sharing progressionVireos on wires to sing hymns of confessionThey'll rouse a man's fear when it's dormant as winterAs the yen to be near fetters faith into splintersOh the tone the time will lag & rushHis eye is on a sparrow & the thrushOh the tone the time will rush & lagAs the roofs & eaves deteriorate & sag
From Letras Mania