The Ink In The Well
David Sylvian
The lights of the ashes
Smoulder through hills and vales
Nostalgia burns in the heart of the strongest
Picasso is painting the ships in the harbour
The wind and sails
These are years with a genius for living
The rope is cut, the rabbit is loose
Fire at will in this open season
The blood of a poet, the ink in the well
It's all written down in the age of reason
The animals run through harvested fields of fire
The bitterness shown on face of the homeless
Picasso is painting the flames from the houses
This sudden rain
These are years with a genius for living
The rope has been cut, the rabbit is loose
Fire at will in this open season
The blood of a poet, the ink in the well
It's all written down in this age of reason
Fire at will