Turn The Bells

07.Turn The Bells

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The market-place has nothing to sell

Left alone its awnings shiver

Wind whistles through the wood

Fish teeth snapping in a river

Peaks puncture the sky, like a child's icy toes

Dipped in a stream, that a few of us know

And the clouds just a ripple?

A shock from the impact?

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Shadows on the street, look like veils at morning

Ice blots in the stone cracks, where tears must have fallen

Oil by the bucket feeds flares to the heavens

Offerings of incense, small bills and lemons

Drumbeats in the caves and heartbeats in the huts

Protectors unveiled for the first time in months

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You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells, I'll turn the bells

You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells, I'll turn the bells

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The storm clouds pass and everything's for sale

The chattering of rapids and bartering of sunset

Beads crunch like bones through fingers and knuckles

Poor hands pick cheap quartz, in the quarries and cliff-edge

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A group of sandalwood trees, with clotted blood coloured bark

Candle-lit teeth, half-moon smiles in the dark

The biker gangs smoking on the edge of the lake

The smoke like white horses a white-eyed mistake

There's spirits in the water like photos in a box

They're torn by the current and crushed by the rocks

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You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells, I'll turn the bells

You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells, I'll turn the bells