Past Lives K Hole
Those visions soft and sweet hang from the hands of time
Grey fruit on broken branch, concrete on the vine
Beneath the silver and the skin, the teardrop and the sea
The hollow hole it grows into eternity
Candle in the corner, no light
No dream no sleep tonight
Babel is no tower, son; no, Babel is that hole
Where you long to sing the songs of love but no words are your own
And the sun will shine just long enough to show you what you've missed
Everywhere bewildered stare, a stranger where you sit
Babel is no tower, son; no, Babel is that pit
Where the taxman comes, collects your thoughts and puts them into print
This is all you've given us? This is all there is?
Everywhere bewildered stare, a stranger where you sit
