Mirrors

These maps are folded, these letters waiting

All written out but too late for sending

The pictures comfort, with equal aching

Just like the mirrors, just like the paintingsCan you hear the sound?

A fitting and glittering hold on this town

It doesn't surprise me at all

You know echoes are all I need to be content

But when will the rising waves come to an end?Don't paint let's just draw, see where I'm looking?

This painless hunger, the neck I'm wringing

So walk white with chalk, and run red with hating

Cos the blueness of this month is fadingCan you hear the sound?

A fitting and glittering hold on this town

It doesn't surprise me at all

You know echoes are all I need to be content

But when will the rising waves come to an end?