Velva Marie Songtext
von D Byron

Porch light hums like a firefly glow
Flickers and sways but it won′t let go
She steps through the door bones light as air
Leaving no footprints like she was never there
They dressed her in linen a strawberry crown
Said breathe in the lake, let the fever drown
She wades where the water bends into gold
Fingers like whispers too tired to hold
And the sky folds in like an old paper crane
The wind hums a song that won't say her name
She floats on the surface a ripple, a stain
Drifting through glass in a pictureless frame
Oh the air is thin where the wild things grow
She moves like a shadow that forgot to go
A slip of a thread a flicker a spark
A moth on the edge of the ever-dark
The house leans quiet the clocks stay still
Curtains breathe soft like a hand on the sill
She sleeps in the deep end, the blue folds tight
Weightless and waiting but never quite right


They whisper of gardens that never will bloom
Of ribbons unspooling in hospital rooms
But she only listens to dragonfly wings
The sound of a summer that never will sing
And the sky folds in like an old paper crane
The wind hums a song that won′t say her name
She floats on the surface a ripple, a stain
Drifting through glass in a pictureless frame
Oh, the air is thin where the wild things grow
She moves like a shadow that forgot to go
A slip of a thread a flicker a spark
A moth on the edge of the ever-dark
A glasshouse stands where the water turns black
She reaches, she reaches, but never comes back
The moon dips low sips light from her hands
And the night rolls on like it understands
Porch light hums but the wires run cold
The wind still calls but the story's too old
They left her in summer a ghost in the heat
A name on the water too soft to repeat