歌词
[Intro] [Verse] Dust motes drift in golden beams I’m waking from my paper dreams The clock ticks slow at ten to nine I’m straightening every shelf and line You haunt the stacks of obscure prose Where the scent of old ink flows [Pre-Chorus] Rain streaks across the glass I watch the shadows pass You’re buried in a thin paperback While I’m losing all my track [Chorus] Oh, the chamomile is cooling on the sill While the world outside is standing still You leave a little honey in the cup I never want to clean the wreckage up Just a poet in a heavy coat Writing rhythm in a secret note [Verse] You found a first edition Keats Between the tea and city streets I saw you underline a phrase That set my quiet heart ablaze You paid with a crumpled ten And I forgot how to use my pen [Chorus] Oh, the chamomile is cooling on the sill While the world outside is standing still You leave a little honey in the cup I never want to clean the wreckage up Just a poet in a heavy coat Writing rhythm in a secret note [Bridge] The melodica plays a lonely tune Underneath a paper moon Are you a metaphor I missed? A ghost that’s never been kissed? Or just a regular in Aisle Four Walking through my swinging door? [Solo] [Chorus] Oh, the chamomile is cooling on the sill While the world outside is standing still You leave a little honey in the cup I never want to clean the wreckage up Just a poet in a heavy coat Writing rhythm in a secret note [Post-Chorus] Da-ba-da, honey in the tea Shoo-be-doo, looking at me Zat-zatt, a little bit of wit I think I’m liking it [Outro]
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