Three Ghosts

Vanden Plas

Compositor: Não Disponível

Cold the night, cold, December cold, when it's coming over me
Cold as ice, painting crystals of my ghosts on the ceiling of my dream

Every night they're falling from somewhere out of time
Underneath the surface of my mind

One by one like from a distant Sun
From an outer wasteland
One by one they speak a different tongue
The three lunatic spacemen

Cold the night, cold, December cold, every night they come again
I close my eyes, but wide awaken as they climb up the stairs into my sleep

Every night they're waiting underneath my bed
Is it real or just inside my head

One by one like from a distant Sun
From a foreign graceland
One by one they speak a different tongue
The three lunatic spacemen

And my phantoms rising there beside my bed
Like a fragrance vaporizing in my head
Mighty strong and scary like an incubus
First they are eating souls and then the rest of us

Now they know my hideaway and they know my face
Unearthly whispering Gideon Grace
Number One is Breather
Two Life-eater
Three The Fright
May death cut the final threat of my speech here tonight, here tonight

One by one like from a distant Sun
Here they come and find me
One by one they speak a different tongue
The three lunatic spacemen
One by one by one by one
One by one by one by one