Wax Cylinder Sonata Lyrics

Dirt Poor Robins Wax Cylinder Sonata

Maybe these paperbacks are cages
With secrets bound beneath the pages?
Between the lines the truth lies in the spaces

The gentle winding of a clock and
Automatons have started walkin'
Now from beyond a metal army marches on

A phoenix smolders in my head
What if the dead are never truly dead?

A camera for her eyes
This timepiece for her mind
These heirlooms forsaken
Reclaimed and made into my grand device
With a wax cylinder sonata for a voice…
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice

Illuminate my way with bricks of yellow
A painted road to follow fallen hallows
And through the forest haunted
I sojourn forward dauntless
For I know
I've no place like a home

Though this could be my magnum opus
My labor must remain unnoticed
Swift as a ghost and blurred out from their focus

A camera for her eyes
This timepiece for her mind
These heirlooms forsaken
Reclaimed and made into my grand device
With a wax cylinder sonata
A wax cylinder sonata for a voice
Voice
Voice
Voice
Voice…