Dream of Stones Lyrics
Hello my dear, would you like to make a plan
To go to the beach and sit out on the sand?
Let it, let it sift through the fingers of our hands
Till it burns our skin and we dig to find the damp
We'd sit, watch the kids as they made up games to play
Worked up to a fever pitch to while away the days
We could sleep and dream of stones at the bottom of the lake
Well safe, safe beneath the washing of the waves
Don't fret that stones fear the ending of the earth
A last breath the ghost of a sentimental urge
That love left no trace, an inconsequential hurt
Too plain, too close, too small to be observed
A flat expanse not worked by any hand
No path, no path a monument of land
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No map, no photograph can illustrate the plan
Don't fret, worry is that crutch that makes a man
Denier, denier, denier
A denier, denier, denier
Denier, denier, denier
Denier, denier, denier
