A Comforter from FunCoffin by FunCoffin

Still you come to me in the night
Walking with bare feet whispering
And still you force me to come round corners that could wait,
To face a minor premise I am avoiding.

Still you draw me from the logic of time,
Reasoning with knots and pieces
Now that I have turned round corners that should wait,
To leave a minor premise I am enjoying.

Still you push me down a busy street,
Whispering of dead men talking,
Until we come to corners that should meet
Upon a minor premise I am trusting.

Still I come to you in the night
Wakened to a silken apron's rustling,
And still I end in corners that must wait
To trap a minor premise I am hiding.

• Experimental
• avant jazz
• classical
• jazz
• opera
• Provo