The Singing of the Whales


Staring at the ceiling, lying on her torn sheet,
Counting back her years with open eyes
Many men, too many men, too many kissing her feet
Many men, too few to raise her child
Once she was a dancer
Ooh, how she could dance

Alone I woke in smoke stained rooms, head spinning,
Always late mid-afternoon,
Aching back, empty bottles lying on the cold floor grinning
They start howling at the moon
Once I was a singer
Ooh, how I could sing

Take the road, take the road out of your soul, out of this wasteland,
Take the road until it turns to sand
Walk the path, walk the path to where the air is getting saltier
Walk the path till all land has reached the end
Once we knew where we came from
Once we had a home

Voices drifting into outer space
It´s the singing of the whales
They are singers, they are dancers, they are everything we could be.
We may kill them, but we´ll never see.

Voices drifting into outer space
It´s the singing of the whales
Singers. Dancers. Everything.

© 2010 Sheesong Publishing