Armchairs

I dreamed you were a cosmonaut

Of the space between our chairs

And I was a cartographer

Of the tangles in your hair

I sang the song that silence brings

It's the one that everybody knows, everybody knows

The song that silence sings

And this, this is how it goes

These looms that weave apocrypha

They're hanging from a strand

This dark and empty rooms were full

Of incandescent hands

Awkward pause, the fatal flaw

Time, it's a crooked bow

Time is a crooked bow

Time you need to learn to love

The ebb just like the flow

Grab hold of your bootstraps and pull like hell

Until gravity feels sorry for you and lets you go

As if you lack the proper chemicals to know, oh

The way it felt the last time you let yourself fall this low

Time, time it's a crooked bow

Time's a crooked bow

Time's a crooked bow, oh, ooh

Fifty-five and three-eighths years later

At the bottom of this gigantic crater

An armchair calls to you

Yeah, this armchair calls to you

And it says that someday we'll get back at them all

With epoxy and a pair of pliers

As ancient sea slugs begin to crawl

Through the ******* and barbed wire, oh

You didn't write, you didn't call

It didn't cross your mind at all, hey

Through the waves, the waves of hay and straw

You couldn't feel a thing at all

Fifty-five and three-eighths, time

Fifty-five and three-eighths time, time