Blue Sky Sinking Songtext
von Robocobra Quartet

Chance of clouds.
I′ll make my bed with the silver linen,
'Til it′s my turn to lie in it: blue sky sinking.

Oh, intent and deeds - two distant ideas so tough to coalesce.
An undeveloped concept:
Littering the road so the street-sweeper's job is kept.


It feels as though the skin is burning off my bones.
I suppose I'm on fire?
A possibility remote.
Moseying toward that hint of a clue,
That occupies your mind for a second or two,
And then disappears (that ghost of an idea).

And if that fiery ball of light decides against reflecting upon us,
We′ll be out of mind and out of sight.
Plunged into a darkness.

I′ll make my bed with the silver linen,
'Til it′s my turn to lie in it: blue sky sinking.