Their Hand is at my throat
But I cannot see their shape
Their walk is unsuspected
Not in the spaces we all know
We all know
But the spaces in between them
In between them
If I throw this coal
to the bottom of the well
Will it one day turn…
Will it one day?
Will it one day?
And their breath is on my shoulder
i’m walking through these trees
To the sound of their machines
in the coldness of a summers day
Of a summers day
but I still dream
I still dream
If I throw this coal
To the bottom of the well
Will it one day turn….
Will it one day
Will it one day
In the coldness of a summers day
In the coldness of a summers day
Words by Mark from Last Under The Sun – Gone CD
