Windows
The Fugitives
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The windows that I wait behind are thickening
I see her light grown softer through the glaze
Leaning down to kiss me with a tired mouth
Another quiet day
In these dreams
My tongue is speaking
And in my feet
Our wedding dances
And through my eyes it's still the same
My fingers lean to speak in clumsy messages
Her patient eyes, silent as she reads
I bang around my head, this hall of photographs
Windows in between
In these dreams
My tongue is speaking
And in my feet
Our wedding dances
And through my eyes it's still the same
They carry me
These hands that cool my fever
And bring me sleep
The world alive in dance behind a pane of glass
I close my eyes and pray for it to break
In these dreams
My tongue is speaking
And in my feet
Our wedding dances
And through my eyes it's still the same