The Wanderer
Kid A
there is no excuse
for a lazy heart.
like a sigh you can never caress,
a touch that never falls
from the tinniest of nerve endings...
the swan upon the lake
yields the blood of the tiger
in the courtyard by the garden,
we danced, as the sunlight
dragged beneath our heels,
and soon the crush of stars,
seeded the dirt with ash
and it lives over and over
in that far off mirror
your eyes once drank
from those same yellow stars
for a lazy heart.
like a sigh you can never caress,
a touch that never falls
from the tinniest of nerve endings...
the swan upon the lake
yields the blood of the tiger
in the courtyard by the garden,
we danced, as the sunlight
dragged beneath our heels,
and soon the crush of stars,
seeded the dirt with ash
and it lives over and over
in that far off mirror
your eyes once drank
from those same yellow stars