Marty Willson - Velvet Fuselage

Looking on a thousand garments worn by priests on summer days
Shallow pools of milky summer ripple past in different ways
Facts or trickles, untrue words spill gleaming dust on dimpled lands
Tables full of glossy fruits with fingerprints from dirty hands


How can minutes whisper
When clocks are always loud
The afternoon gets crisper
A Ginger Witch, a Velvet Fuselage
How can I be growing
When the sea has not returned
If the sky's not snowing
A Ginger Witch, a Velvet Fuselage


Cooler than the secret planet fences separate the hills
On she goes and bends the trenches, kills the colonel with her spells