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de Darren Hanlon

All around the room in a whirl
You saw dancers catch fire when you were still a girl
In a town that's built on the whispers of tattlers
But yet to inspire a single a single dot in the Commonwealth atlas

God only knows how these things ever start
An empty plate in the place of a heart
That finds it's way on a trail of crumbs
And stains windowpanes on the prints of thumbs

So go take rest
Pull the blankets up tightly with your knees to your chest
A far off sound
But to such delicate ears it must seem like there's a zoo burning down

A nagging ache there must be some place better
Searched through every library book down to the last letter
Even Thornfield Manor sounds enticing
With echoes down the hall and on the walls the heads of bison

So go take rest
Pull the blankets up tightly with your knees to your chest
A schoolyard song
And no one can blame you for getting it so horribly wrong

The old saddlers breath that always smells of leather
The cafe sign letters been faded forever
Irrelevant facts from the history tester
Snowed under the chalk dust of last semester

Can't you see
What it's done to your mother, what it's done to me?
All their words
Will shatter into pieces when I lock you in my arms again

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