I was tryinâ to walk Giantâs Causeway all alone
You were reading at dawn your Szymborskaâs poems
While the autumn would ash
On your motherâs carpet
And the idiotsâ parade
Somehow still raised a blast
Mirror cried, cried, cried
Off a blue room
Off a blue room
As the cello player threw his bow to the sky
Swear I saw the statues cry
Made a paper boat with my fatherâs funeral bill
Heard those cars hiss by your windowâs eyes
But my glance had no more thrill
You were playinâ barefoot in some underpass
Perfect as a morning on the beach of Carmel
And lilies died, died, died
CHORUS
There were more thorns than roses in the deputeeâs speech
So weâd get to the garden to kiss our own gravity
But the only four we ever saw breed
Were the ones that we drank from the bottle indeed
I could feel your own breathing in the pause of your lyrics
I may roam in the corners of your sleep and your dreaming
Colors cried, cried, every color cried
Off your blue room
Off your blue room
Swear I, swear I, swear I saw the statues cry
Wait for happiness
Was the joy itself