Holding on to something liquid
Missing tiles in piles of sickness
Licking up the signs of distress
Quick of the eye
Reaching out to something liquid
Saving traces of the mystery
Falling off the hammered gates
Calling to the sky
Seeking out the old cathedral
Fall into a field of blue dreams
Echoes pulling out of season
Quick of the eye
Evening falls into a relay
Rings of clouds encircle madness
Trains are coming
Full steam running
No time to buy
Holding on to something liquid
Missing tiles in piles of sickness
Licking up the signs of distress
Quick of the eye