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Chris Pureka
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Blind Man's Waltz
The kettle was screaming,
but you just couldn't hear it,
you were back at the station,
counting the minutes,
and she drove up humming along with the radio...
It was all plain as day like some careless graffiti,
strewn 'round the house but nevermind, nevermind,
let's put those blinders on and go tear up the town...
You were the farmer and she was the acrobat,
flying off the handle,
into the cumulus,
kissing the clouds,
while you just waited for rain...
Oh to the left, to the left,
the shape of a sinister ghost in the bed,
and the sound of a mockingbird,
oh in the end,
you're the fool of the carnival...
And so you're building it up for the breakdown,
love's just a trampoline,
you can never get off...
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You should have heard it,
the building cacophony,
of that demolition,
everything crumbling,
but all you could hear,
was the ring in your ears,
when the quiet came...
Oh to the left, to the left,
the shape of a sinister ghost in the bed,
and the sound of a mockingbird,
oh in the end,
you're the fool of the carnival...
And so you're building,
it up for the breakdown,
love's just a carousel,
you can never get off...
Waltzing on shards of those shattered alibis...
Waltzing on shards of those shattered alibis...
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, waltz with me...
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