Turn The Bells

The market-place has nothing to sell

Left alone its awnings shiver

Wind whistles through the wood

Fish teeth snapping in a river

Peaks puncture the sky

Like a child's icy toes

Dipped in a stream

That a few of us know

And the cloud just a ripple?

A shock from the impact?

Shadows on the streets

Look like veils at morning

Ice blots in the stone cracks

Where tears must have fallen

Oil by the bucket feeds flares to the heavens

Offerings of incense, small bills and lemons

Drumbeats in the caves

And heartbeats in the huts

Protectors unveiled for the first time in months

You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells

I'll turn the bells [x2]

The storm clouds pass and everything's for sale

The chattering of rapids,

And bartering of sunset

Beads crunch like bones

Through fingers and knuckles

Poor hans pick cheap quartz

In the quarries and cliff-edge

A group od sandalwood trees

With clotted blood coloured bark

Candle-lit teeth

Half-moon smiles in the dark

The biker gangs smoking

On the edge of the lake

The smoke like white horses

A white-eyed mistake

There's spirits in the water

Like photos in a box

They're torn by the current

And crushed by the rocks

You find some best friends,

We'll hold each other

And I'll turn the bells

I'll turn the bells [x4]