Leaning into the Afternoons

How Does It Feel?

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(Charlotte, 2010)

Now if I could disclose secrets heaven only knows, if I’d lose all my ground and see your smile decompose.
So I rest on the fact that I love you I suppose, and I hang like the colors on a blind man’s clothes.

(…on a blind man’s clothes…)

How does it feel,
How does it feel,
How does it feel,
To be on my mind?

I’m the pale moon rising I’m the ghost in flight, that steals through the spaces of your inward night.
I’m the moth that’s resting on your window sill, with a lust for light and an iron will.

(…and an iron will…)

How does it feel,
How does it feel,
How does it feel,
To be on my mind?

Pray tell talk to me can you feel me in the fingers, of the wind in your hair as if I’m standing there.
Very well like a child running to some mademoiselle, in his hand to his ear is pressed a great seashell.

I’m the moon-eyed fish swimming up to you, you’re the tall Titanic but you’ll be subdued.
There’s someone mapping out a rendezvous, it seems to me…

(…it seems to me…)

How does it feel,
How does it feel,
How does it feel,
To be on my mind?

You’re in my shadow – here in my room…
Love’s such a strange thing – here in my room…
I’m standing barefoot – here in my room…
Staid as a gypsy – here in my room…