Poets of the fall - Choir of Cicadas
текст песни

It's the season of dust trailing old pick up trucks 
Seashells washed ashore down by the docks
So baby pull on your blue jeans turn the radio loud
Don't wait for the hour to give birth to doubt

In the peak harvest of snakebites and wasted hindsight 
When trivial truths sit next to the taillights
When fenders of chrome they rattle and hum
All carved in the shape of freedom

Those flea market stalls in the bone dry noon
Despite pretty signs, look cursed and marooned 
And trumpet notes wailing from the candy store
Like a work of art of uneasy rapport

The wreckage, the blunder, the tarot read 
In the heat blurry air we're down in the field
Where to the choir of cicadas' jubilee 
Among the clouds we once fell asleep

The sirens of the shipyard by those derelict whales 
Old mothers singing rusty old tales
Like revving engines keening sky high
Yet theirs is never a war cry

So I'll be your lover now, brazen and bright
Like the flare of a match you struck in the night 
Though what does a stray know 'bout holy and true 
But I'll always come to your rescue

Oh lord won't you hear your children cry
Singing their praise and their hallelujahs
I have no more words to describe
An empty sky of hollow blue, yeah

So where is my lover, my firelight
The line on the edge of truth and rumour
We took our vows in the heart of the night 
We were brazen and bright, when we were brazen and bright