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Gordon Downie
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Moonslow Yer Lashes
Where I am*
No one makes a sound
No one makes a peep
No one opens their mouth to speak
Oh, the constant idling of winter work
Work I recognise and understand
No more, 'what-must-he-think?'
No more, 'I-think-he-thinks'
More, alone and idling in a van
Where I am
No one makes a sound
No one makes a peep
No one opens their mouth to speak
Oh, the constant sifting for material
Oh the constantly in my head
(“Oh, ain't that uncanny, ain't that unnatural”)
Taking everything to bed
While burgundy's crestfallen, she's outside herself
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Saying, “Why do I do what I did?
When I get out of high level, when, not if
I'm just going to want to hold and smell and touch my kids
And dance-dance to their timeless trance
And dream-dream to the stone of their dreams
Go on little drunken astronauts, go
Far, straight, forgiving and brief
Forget the hawks, jaguars, the knife-lickers and creeps”
Where I am
No one makes a sound
No one makes a peep
No one opens their mouth to speak
Moonslow your eyelashes, fluttering above your cheeks
Moonslow your little lashes, please, go to sleep
Yeah please, go to sleep
Honey please, go to sleep
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