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Beau Phillips
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The Walking Dream
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Song by Beau Phillips
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Lying at the gates of winter Talking to myself I can smell a hint of you Your quietest, your deepest self I’m waiting in the car at night Dark rolling country, in my next REM The shock of silence overwhelms The sex, the seed, the stems The Walking Dream The birth of stars that seem to talk to you in your sleep The Walking Dream The fall is so steep Fall down Let’s get up Lying in the sundry summer Sunday nights, dreading work I can taste the pool of you Skinny dip, loneliness shirk You’ll scream “Shark!”, but in the dark I feel the water rise On a lark, I go under Blind, I close my eyes The Walking Dream The birth of stars that seem to talk to you in your sleep The Walking Dream The fall is so steep Fall down Let’s get up Copyright 2004 Beau Phillips
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