I cleaned my conscience but now it starts
I got so wicked
I don’t see how, with us…
Now I think I’m touching clouds
and I feel I play with feathers
but I fear I play with you, instead,
in my hands.
Where is this sign that would drive me right?
A hand, filmy, in mine
is fumbling my way into this
Couldn’t you notice I can’t get through?
Couldn’t you see in me
clawing at you?
Now I feel I’m detuned and lost
I feel I missed the rail
Couldn’t you be mine?
Now I feel I play with feathers
Now I think I’m touching clouds
Angel’s arms…
