Pretty Looks

An injection of time
Straight to the vein
From the long hand of the clock
That's red with the life it's drained
An umbrella flew from the tip of my tongue
To shield us from the truth of what we'd become
What we've become

And now the moth bitten cloak of the night sky
Creeps into my bed where you'd lie
No!
I'm just making shapes from shadows

Ah babe
How I wish you'd been able to carve
The tablet to tell of my time at the farm
The childish scenario recited for crooks
Is wasted on idle minds
Just for pretty looks