Oh the moon no longer hold our shadows
In her hands
And the stars are all too drunk to get undressed
Since the noise of our intentions
Has been swallowed by the sands
The dead no longer have a peace in which to rest
Did we wander with our shopping lists
In palaces of paper
Watching butterflies in cases all start flapping their dead wings
And our ancestors our spending our inheritance to kill us
As clockwork soldiers all fall down
And spill out their springs
I must confess
Yes it was me
Oh it was me
I made that mess
Anniversaries of old liberties
Are limping past in lines
As the clouds are putting on their darkest suits
And the faraways and impossibles
Are showing all the signs
Of some dirty damned delusions
Someone dumped inside their boots
And you could walk right through this
On your footsteps of confetti
And hear the lilies whisper through the rain
But my umbrella has flown off
To leave my head a naked lightbulb
As the lilies lose their voices
With a strain
I must confess
Yes it was me
Oh it was me
I made that mess
I must confess
Yes it was me
Oh it was me
I made that mess