King Creosote
And The Racket They Made
And your words chased round and round in my headLast nightThey chased their own talesAnd your words jigged round my mind all nightTo look at me now, I’m quiet as soundAnd the tide shrinks back into its wombAnd I hope the empty shells and bones of your storiesWill litter and clutter the shoresAnd I hope that when I find themI’ll remember how they dancedAnd the racket they madeWhen they were alive
From Letras Mania