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• Artiste: Sleeping Years (The)
• Titre: Islands
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I write to you now so you'll know my fate, We've had no news for seven days. These disappearances we made Take hold. Our photographs begin to cloud, The colour running from my mouth, The light I reflect filters through And burns out. My breath frosting in the cold, The radios all turned to snow And my words thicken in my throat And hang mute. All the lights trip out, all the echoes slow, I hold my breath, I turn to stone, To stay invisible for long Takes thought. It's a sleight of hand, it's a trick of light To fool yourself, to close your eyes To all the drifting for tonight You'll be gone. We're becoming islands one by one, we've got distances to cross. We've been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word. We're becoming islands one by one, we've got oceans now between us. We've been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word.