Golden Hours
The passage of time is flicking dimly upon the screen;
I can't see
the lines I used to think I could read between.
Perhaps my brains have
turned to sand. Oh me oh my, I think it's been an eternity.
You'd be
surprised at my degree of uncertainty. How can moments go so slow?
Several times I've seen the evening slide away. Watching the signs
taking over from the fading day.
Perhaps my brains are old and scrambled
... Several times I've seen the evening slide away. Watching the signs
taking over from the fading day.
Changing water into wine...
Several
times I've seen the evening slide away. Watching the signs taking over
from the fading day.
Putting grapes back on the vine...
Who could believe what a poor set of
eyes can show you?
Who would believe what an innocent voice could do?
Never a silence, always a face at the door
Who would believe what a poor
set of ears can tell you?
Who would believe what a weak pair of hands
can do?
Never a silence, always a foot in the door.
(b. eno)