The Leisure Society - The Sober Scent of Paper

Chains stretch the great lake around you
Pull you along by the knots in your hair
It's just like you'd never been there.
Cold tooth and ice scattered islands,
Faithfully facing the warmth of the sun.
All to the quickening dawn.
Fever on the thorough-way brow
The sober scent of paper.
Teething cries in what the rain hides
Where not enough to save you.

Faith is a race from the silence
Widens and swallows you
Head first and whole
Fight through the whitening bones


Secede while you can while you're able
Sorrow may tap at the root of your song
Light sparks the opening bomb
Fever on the thorough-way brow
The sober scent of paper.
Teething cries in what the rain hides,
Where not enough to save you.

Every ache is dissolved in the brine
And the waves from the bay and then rise
But the shark ridden garden will run dry again