The Lane - Sleepy Sun

You wait in line

You stare inside

You bite your lip

Your eyes in a handsome grip

So tight

You hold your head

So still on a heavy breast

The key in hand

To the heart of the promised land

You’re mine

In a pool of roses, we could swim

Only a grand illusion of our earthly whim

A glimpse

You ride the wheel

On a sea of floating fields

You’re drawn, quartered

Left to drift like a poor angel of lust

In a pool of roses, we could swim

Only a grand illusion of our earthly whim

A glimpse