Velvet Fuselage

Looking on a thousand garments worn by priests on summer days Shallow pools of milky summer ripple past in different ways Facts or trickles, untrue words spill gleaming dust on dimpled lands Tables full of glossy fruits with fingerprints from dirty hands How can minutes whisper When clocks are always loud The afternoon gets crisper A Ginger Witch, a Velvet Fuselage How can I be growing When the sea has not returned If the sky's not snowing A Ginger Witch, a Velvet Fuselage Cooler than the secret planet fences separate the hills On she goes and bends the trenches, kills the colonel with her spells