Right Back

The clockwork in the corner counts the dust motes In the sun And every loyal pendulum has seen what I have Done Pressed our memory in a book, The "Forgive Me Not" so blue But autumn in The binding turned the page already through Oh my April moon is fading in The room silent hurricane coming all too soon Trace The borderlines, the coast of its design A half Constellation born of empty Signs And maybe peace is not a sea But Just a silent shore A museum Of the weather That you kept inside your Soul And maybe peace is not a sea But just a silent shore A museum of the That you kept Inside your soul And every tender Fracture, every slowly setting gray Is just a softer Shading for the portrait of the day So let The color bleed now, a watercolor sky My paper Moon is sailing on a breathless lullaby No trying To put it on, no urge or need to Steal it back Just watching how the gentle light Can gently fade to Black And so And maybe peace is not a sea But just a silent shore A museum Of the weather That you kept inside your Soul And maybe peace is not a sea But Just a silent shore A museum Of the weather That you kept inside your Soul