Текст: Porcupine Tree. Deadwing. Mellotron Scratch.

:
A tiny flame inside my hand A compromise I never planned Unravel out the finer strands
And I'm looking at a blank page now Should I fill it up with words somehow?
I whispered something in her ear I bare my soul but she don't hear
The scratching of a mellotron it always seemed to make her cry Well maybe she remembers us collecting space up in the sky
Nothing rises from my feet of clay, but it's OK Red mist spreads across my fingertips, ardour slips
I lay her gently on my clothes She will leave me yes I know
And I'm looking at a blank page now Should I fill it up with words somehow?
The scratching of a mellotron it always seemed to make her cry Well maybe she remembers us collecting space up in the sky
Nothing rises from my feet of clay, but it's OK Red mist spreads across my fingertips, ardour slips
Don't look at me with your mother's eyes or your killer smile Sing a lullaby