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Pulling on a line |
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the line runs through like a train in a book |
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or metres underwater,ending with a hook |
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it always in the air when there's wind enough to lift |
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the fine ones are boundaries when there is a rift |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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i'm just Pulling on a line |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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and sometimes it pulls on me |
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the line,it inks across the freshly fallen snow |
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where only those embracing coldness would go |
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it whistles and it whispers,and sometimes it howls |
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it sings to me sweetly from trees and in vowels |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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and sometimes it pulls on me |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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and sometimes it pulls on me |
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the lines,it writes itself across the dark sky |
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in the electric flashes ending with a sign |
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it waves itself into a fabric so true |
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and flows just like the river,graceful and blue |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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i'm just Pulling on a line |
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i'm just Pulling on a line,on a line |
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and sometimes it pulls on me |
