The Fog

There's a hole in the fog from where the music flows
We warm our bones by its waning glow
Like each note slips through between a reef
Like a galleon of sweet relief
When you feel like your spine's been ripped from your back
You gotta taste the blues before your muse comes back
You gotta taste the blues before your muse comes back
You gotta taste the blues before your muse comes back

When the music leaves you, you've lost your soul
When the music leaves you, you're on your own
When the music leaves you, you aint got no home
When the music leaves you, you sink like stone

I follow you into your satin-world, of distant caves and satin swirls
It's distant shades, where shadows run and skin burns hard 'neath a crumpled sun
I bury you, you bury me I bury you, you bury me
Slippin' into void so effortlessly slippin' so discrete, so silently
Take a leaf down from the tree
It's old and hard 'neath the shattered stars
Keeps-a-rustlin' by me, keeps remindin' me it's where I wanna be
In the sails of the fleets of sweet relief
Of sweet relief
Of sweet relief