August by Tom Verlaine Lyrics
(Ah, shucks...
I should have brought my raincoat
I knew I should have brought it.)
My illusions disappear
At the very thought of you
Like last night's rain from the rooftops
Now it's August twenty-fourth
Cool as the lining of your coat
I read the sign but do not stop
A quiet room, not long ago;
Beneath the silent blue delivery
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through
Just the sweetest...
Just the sweetest...
Goodness gracious, my, oh, my
I'm really off the hinges
Thinking of time as something tight, so tight
But you've made a garden from
A single tulip on the bed
I count my blessings all the night
A quiet room, not long ago;
Beneath the silent blue delivery
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through
Course I know that it's not wise
Gazing into sunlight
Just the things it falls upon
But the final vision has
Grown at least a hundred-fold
I see your disillusion gone
A quiet room, not long ago
Beneath the silent room, deliver me
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours always shining through
A quiet room, not long ago
Beneath the silent room, deliver me
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through
I should have brought my raincoat
I knew I should have brought it.)
My illusions disappear
At the very thought of you
Like last night's rain from the rooftops
Now it's August twenty-fourth
Cool as the lining of your coat
I read the sign but do not stop
A quiet room, not long ago;
Beneath the silent blue delivery
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through
Just the sweetest...
Just the sweetest...
Goodness gracious, my, oh, my
I'm really off the hinges
Thinking of time as something tight, so tight
But you've made a garden from
A single tulip on the bed
I count my blessings all the night
A quiet room, not long ago;
Beneath the silent blue delivery
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through
Course I know that it's not wise
Gazing into sunlight
Just the things it falls upon
But the final vision has
Grown at least a hundred-fold
I see your disillusion gone
A quiet room, not long ago
Beneath the silent room, deliver me
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours always shining through
A quiet room, not long ago
Beneath the silent room, deliver me
No metaphor, no memory
Above the hours, always shining through