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• Artiste: Sleeping Years (The)
• Titre: Broken Homes
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Leaving my home shores and north winds, Brittle maps of my ribs bowing. They carried blood down to my hand Where they struck you dumb, made you a believer. No matter how hard you try - they fail to listen to you - Though they swear you're free to rise - but they've placed their hands upon you - And time and time again - they're grouping to welcome you - But you're alone with everyone. This reach of crooked lines and hollows, The ground falling under my fingertips. I draw napes and brows and scars, I walk on water. And all the rivers sing: 'all I am is of here'. If you feel you're on your own Your world's in rhymes that you can't understand at al And you're left to broken homes Holding out for one more chance to come along. And the songs that filled the house - were lifted to the rooftops. Of the glory in their hearts - and the gathering of the crowd. The water washed my mouth - and the language that I spoke - Was snaked in riddles, roped in code.