Floor Pile

I stood inside your pool in some palm setting reelA picture on a screen there sat you and meAnd i comb the wire for a lock of papier-macheI build a tower for you to portrayYou let go of my hand and acted like we never touchedLike some harbour a ship never brushedI am the floor pile walk over meMy light has grown tired paint over meAll at once i just can't abide i fearOn the cobble swims a king with a hearty smile