Sour Sun

Another, then I'm gone again

You wave your hand over my lens

But I am watching something good

I'd tell you if you understood

Living on a hill with its back to the sun

Growing nothing still

All the work, it gets done

I'm keeping still the things that kill

Desire and will, it's fine until

I hear a word that sits with me

Like sour milk, I pour it free

Living on a hill with its back to the sun

Growing nothing still

All the work, it gets done

Underneath the hill was a hidden town

Buried were the fields and the buildings drowned

Sometimes, in the evenings, I take my boat

Just to see the town

And I feel that I want to swim down