Timber Timbre
The Darkness of Things
It seems there's a darkness in things
The moon, the sea, the early light
And I abide, by the darkness of things
The moon, the seed, the early light
And I abide, I do abide
Faith has kept our stomachs dry
Now ride on this blind horse
Carry you home
Your clothes they are soiled
Your eyes raw from weeping
Now how can they wash their hands so clean?
After wooing you into a tomb of perfumed skin and infamy
I cleaned these streets looking for a piece of you
A tooth or a matchbook, a wedding shoe
But it seems there's a darkness in things
The moon, the sea, the early light
And I abide by the darkness of things
The moon, the sea, the early light
And I abide, I do abide
A faith has kept our stomachs dry
Now ride on this blind horse
Carry you home
Your gold glove marauding
You're lovesick from dreaming
Now how can they wash their hands so clean?
After wooing you into a tomb of perfumed skin and infamy