Karine Polwart Sticks 'n' Stones
I'm bruised by the early morning, I hear the whole house breathing
Footsteps in empty hallways fall to the sound of leaving
Inch marks on doorframes And thumbprints on window frames Ghosts of hereafter
Kitchen walls pock marked With shadows of blue tack And riddled with laughter
Scars where the bed stood And names scored on old wood And dreams in the rafters
Secrets in timbers And tears spilled on red bills And hopes in the plasterboard
Out in the world of numbers One door doesn't count at all
It's just sticks n stones (and our dreams in the rafters) It's just sticks n stones our hopes in the plasterboard) It's just sticks n stones (and our dreams in the rafters) It's just sticks n stones our hopes in the plasterboard) It's just sticks n stones (and our dreams in the rafters) It's just sticks n stones And our stories
