Analog Dreams

In analog dreams she recedes Into nothing and she's gone Bleeding into birds as they fly Against the pale, pale blue dawn Rain on the windows in the morning Means that summer's almost here And oceans of wine dark water Silently disappear Is this it? Is this it? A broken clock holds quiet hands To a face upon a wall Broken clouds summon ghosts And devils of a long forgotten fall A single tear, the smell of blood among The fading songs of rail cars The lion waits, the lamb cries out In a symphony of stars Is this it? Is this it? Is this it? Is this it?

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