Steady Homecoming by Totem Of The Heart Lyrics
Where I wallow, in the depths of such a faceless grin,
I fall through interest, new, like stiff breeze
And as I scatter, queerest of all orbs through my clumsy mimic,
I feel her indescribable gesture peep within
Grasshoppers fling themselves in the center of attention
Peonies, bridesmaid dressing
Furrows, long trenches,
And such boisterous blooming
The garden was plucked like hair from the scalp
With deciduous fields of mulberry scattered throughout
And we were children in the depths of innocence
Vibrance in green ceramic,
Weeping willows
Defiant clusters of daffodils that rear in the gardens backseat
Saffron hued primroses,
Moss, scuffed and soil like carpet
Tangled thickets of thorn,
Knotted boughs and leaf loam,
Leafless privets, sponge turf,
Wide lawns and shaggy grass
Branches, like pale arms
Swatting against my precious life,
Clocks of summer and blue lobelia
That each lave over trembling passages;
This thickened blooming is enough to reveal a fifth season
Languages were given,
Eternity was called,
Peculiar suffocation was provided,
As bowers gathered to adorn her gilded cast
The bronze weathervane cods upon the rooftops
Lone with half its scales and needles,
The pointing compass that shudders elegantly
Against oblique, suburban colors
And hourglass timing against noontides unreturning heat
Platoons of perched, contented faces,
Winds of sweet sonata
The alluring sun-kissed valley of the scenic rim through backyard haze,
The native golden-brown wattles
And ligneous evergreen perennials,
Snug within their relatives
Tasmanian blue gum trees,
With cream-coated boles
Hidden beneath the peeling flakes,
That gather collectively in heaps;
An audience of argent gossamer-thin bark;
Roots quenched, soil renewed,
Buttercups gold, in such gilded occasion
Cascading ivy on rustic cobblestone hindrances
And drooping soldiers, curious detectives
That obsess over the enigmatical
We scribble aimless patterns among the coarse dirt;
Such intricate landscapes of fine lines and scars, ridges and hollows
That we carve from the still flows of time
And we are artists in wonder
This garden our palette, our inspiration, our swift influence all the way from the beginning
Capeweed, lovely lupines too, under constant stress
By the great, unbounded chimney tops;
We abhor the overcasting smugness upon our home,
The extravagant monoliths of concrete and steel,
The pencil drawings in the sky
Our garden is reached by new heights,
Surmounted by impressive high-rise superstructures
That hatch straight from the jungle streets
And far further, higher than our aimless metropolis
Beyond the insignificant alleyways and minuscule crevices,
The faces of shiny blackness and shady living rooms
Where many live and die, laugh and cry,
And where the pride of their relationships abruptly end with uninvited gloom
Thousands upon thousands of glittering fragments
Of what was then an alcoholic beverage,
Now reposed with cattle skulls and the cliche of street rats
Who skim the grounds in search of fat
Hip children that invade such cobwebbed attics,
The scattered asylums that crawl with addicts
For where the sun barely strokes such scabrous walls
Fiction dogs in constant howl across this corner of bitter winter
Isles of homemade brothels, draped silk on loose threads
Alley cats trotting, with dirt stained on their matted coats,
Their bony rib cages protruded from their chests
It's more than a mere shadow
But rather a distinguished version of heaven and hell,
Where it spills such languid night;
Yet I am safe in the embraceable corners of my home,
In depths where blossomed berries bloom
And yellow daisies rise, from the satin beds of love
I fall through interest, new, like stiff breeze
And as I scatter, queerest of all orbs through my clumsy mimic,
I feel her indescribable gesture peep within
Grasshoppers fling themselves in the center of attention
Peonies, bridesmaid dressing
Furrows, long trenches,
And such boisterous blooming
The garden was plucked like hair from the scalp
With deciduous fields of mulberry scattered throughout
And we were children in the depths of innocence
Vibrance in green ceramic,
Weeping willows
Defiant clusters of daffodils that rear in the gardens backseat
Saffron hued primroses,
Moss, scuffed and soil like carpet
Tangled thickets of thorn,
Knotted boughs and leaf loam,
Leafless privets, sponge turf,
Wide lawns and shaggy grass
Branches, like pale arms
Swatting against my precious life,
Clocks of summer and blue lobelia
That each lave over trembling passages;
This thickened blooming is enough to reveal a fifth season
Languages were given,
Eternity was called,
Peculiar suffocation was provided,
As bowers gathered to adorn her gilded cast
The bronze weathervane cods upon the rooftops
Lone with half its scales and needles,
The pointing compass that shudders elegantly
Against oblique, suburban colors
And hourglass timing against noontides unreturning heat
Platoons of perched, contented faces,
Winds of sweet sonata
The alluring sun-kissed valley of the scenic rim through backyard haze,
The native golden-brown wattles
And ligneous evergreen perennials,
Snug within their relatives
Tasmanian blue gum trees,
With cream-coated boles
Hidden beneath the peeling flakes,
That gather collectively in heaps;
An audience of argent gossamer-thin bark;
Roots quenched, soil renewed,
Buttercups gold, in such gilded occasion
Cascading ivy on rustic cobblestone hindrances
And drooping soldiers, curious detectives
That obsess over the enigmatical
We scribble aimless patterns among the coarse dirt;
Such intricate landscapes of fine lines and scars, ridges and hollows
That we carve from the still flows of time
And we are artists in wonder
This garden our palette, our inspiration, our swift influence all the way from the beginning
Capeweed, lovely lupines too, under constant stress
By the great, unbounded chimney tops;
We abhor the overcasting smugness upon our home,
The extravagant monoliths of concrete and steel,
The pencil drawings in the sky
Our garden is reached by new heights,
Surmounted by impressive high-rise superstructures
That hatch straight from the jungle streets
And far further, higher than our aimless metropolis
Beyond the insignificant alleyways and minuscule crevices,
The faces of shiny blackness and shady living rooms
Where many live and die, laugh and cry,
And where the pride of their relationships abruptly end with uninvited gloom
Thousands upon thousands of glittering fragments
Of what was then an alcoholic beverage,
Now reposed with cattle skulls and the cliche of street rats
Who skim the grounds in search of fat
Hip children that invade such cobwebbed attics,
The scattered asylums that crawl with addicts
For where the sun barely strokes such scabrous walls
Fiction dogs in constant howl across this corner of bitter winter
Isles of homemade brothels, draped silk on loose threads
Alley cats trotting, with dirt stained on their matted coats,
Their bony rib cages protruded from their chests
It's more than a mere shadow
But rather a distinguished version of heaven and hell,
Where it spills such languid night;
Yet I am safe in the embraceable corners of my home,
In depths where blossomed berries bloom
And yellow daisies rise, from the satin beds of love