The Clock  (song)

 In a room full of dust he touched her hair, he touched her hair.
And her hair was like the cobwebs which covered her there,
which covered her there.

In a room full of evening he touched her skin, he touched her skin.
And her skin was like the parchment of the book she lay in,
of the book she lay in.

In a room full of must he touched her dress, he touched her dress.
And her dress was like the crackled petals,
crackled petals of her breast

In a room full of glass her lips he kissed, her lips he kissed.
And her lips were like the perfume of her shadow in a mist,
of her shadow in a mist.

In a room full of blood he touched the hands, the hands of her clock.
And his hands were like the turning, and his hands were like the turning,
of a blade in a lock.

In a room full of bone he touched her scream, he touched her scream.
And her scream was like the winding, and her scream was like the winding,
of the spring of his dream.

In a room full of thread he touched her face, he touched her face.
And her face was like a mirror of time in that place,
of time in that place.

In a room full of dust he touched her hair, he touched her hair.
And her hair was like the cobwebs which covered her there,
which covered her there.

And her hair was like the cobwebs
and her skin was like the parchment
and her dress was like the petals
and her lips were like the perfume
and his hands were like the turning
and her scream was like the winding
and her face was like a mirror
and her hair was like the cobwebs…



© professoryackle (Sara Pitt)