Tekst
Desires of the past still haunt me
In dreams when I'm asleep
Though by day they're far away
It's by the moon they creep
To try and tell me love is something
That I have to earn
And glorify the plastic gods
That I've already burned
And in my misty morning mind
I see the shadows
Are simply an impression of the object
From which they come
The darker blues of a lush green meadow
The echo of an eighth note on a drum
Desires of the past still taunt me
When all is fine
They find me in my resting place
And whisper ancient lines
They tell me I'm not satisfied
And try to steal my joy
We fight until the morning light
Comes swiftly to destroy
And in my misty morning mind
I see the shadows
Are simply an impression of the object
From which they come
The darker blues of a lush green meadow
The echo of an eighth note on a drum
Desires of the past don't want me
As much as they once did
They're not as heavy as they were
When I was just a kid
I laugh at their absurdity
Like greeting an old friend
I think of all eternity
Beginning with their end
And in my misty morning mind
I see the shadows
Are simply an impression of the object
From which they come
The darker blues of a lush green meadow
The echo of an eighth note on a drum