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• Artiste: The Man-Eating Tree
• Titre: This Longitude Of Sleep
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In these eastern parts of a war, As threats drifting with days Built up like clouds meant To shroud all light - But this one here. But as threats, They never had much Of a real thunder to them. In the parts untouched by the war The same threats - Like rafts of birds - Would swing and buffet Sideways and through the Clouds meant to shroud all light - But this one here. But as threats, they never had much Of a real thunder to them. As fire brigades Continue to take on The furnace outside, We would swing through And down again Like those damned birds Through any joys In this Bloody mess of black And then back down again. While you were asleep I left the house With a burning ghost on my heels To chase down the clouds meant To shroud all light - But this one here