Everything returns to dust, everything returns to rust
Is that the buckle on your shoe soon be copper-colored, too
All this recklessness and rust drives the whole of us
To catch the light or catch the bus before it's gone
There might be music, she said, left in the crumbling plaster
In waltzing angels whispering secrets to the alabaster
I will go breathless, whispering a name
I will go breathless, pirouetting in the flame
And drift like wishes in the orange blossom air
But I will go, I will go breathless there
Across the bridges, through the moors, across a million marble floors
The surface cracking at your feet, so you tread lightly on the street
Because all this recklessness and rust, is sometimes too much for us
Keep your eyes fixed up ahead so you don't see it
'Poetry is dead,' Delilah said, 'maybe in a pocket somewhere in Prague
But that's all that's left of it, and aren't you a good dog...'
I will go breathless, no one will write it down
I will go breathless, in a chocolate paper gown
Melt into the river, let the story drift away
But I will go breathless into that good day
Little do they know that I could rise up from the world
And pick the pockets of the angels come back here, a rich girl
Oh I will go breathless, skipping every stair
I will go breathless, throwing pennies in the air
And turn out every pocket for the very last refrain
I will go breathless into that good rain
I will go breathless, whispering a name
I will go breathless, pirouetting in the flame
And drift like wishes in the copper autumn light
I will go breathless into that good night