The shadows of the trees are getting longer now, and meaner.
Pretty soon they’ll kill us all and dance on our graves.
Pretty soon they’ll kill us all and dance on our graves.
The piano sat for a long time in silence waiting for someone to speak its language and when you did,
When you touched its face as softly as the air,
It only spat at you.
When you touched its face as softly as the air,
It only spat at you.
The grass reached up your legs, tickled your shins and gripped your knees
Before dragging you all the way down.
Before dragging you all the way down.
The sky’s not there anymore.
It gave no hint of its going away.
Maybe it didn’t like being taken for granted.
Maybe it was never really there at all.
It gave no hint of its going away.
Maybe it didn’t like being taken for granted.
Maybe it was never really there at all.
The clouds may have gotten tired of having to carry the sky on their backs.
The stars may have gotten tired of having to stare at you from so far away.
The stars may have gotten tired of having to stare at you from so far away.
There are mountains at the bottom of the ocean that nobody’s ever climbed.
The pressure at the bottom of the ocean would pop you like a cherry.
The pressure at the bottom of the ocean would pop you like a cherry.
Nothing is forbidden. Nothing can be forbidden.
Nothing is forgiven. Nothing can be forgiven.
Nothing changes. Nothing can change.
Photos by (top-bottom) Rob Cartwright, Unknown, Hank Shaw
Words & Music by Mike Power 