Sleeping Years (The)
Islands
I write to you now so you'll know my fate,We've had no news for seven days.These disappearances we madeTake hold.Our photographs begin to cloud,The colour running from my mouth,The light I reflect filters throughAnd burns out.My breath frosting in the cold,The radios all turned to snowAnd my words thicken in my throatAnd hang mute.All the lights trip out, all the echoes slow,I hold my breath, I turn to stone,To stay invisible for longTakes thought.It's a sleight of hand, it's a trick of lightTo fool yourself, to close your eyesTo all the drifting for tonightYou'll be gone.We're becoming islands one by one, we've got distances to cross.We've been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word.We're becoming islands one by one, we've got oceans now between us.We've been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word.
From Letras Mania