كلمات Broken Jawbone And Low-Flying Plane

I indicate that you might have a jaw made of glass And I’ve begun to notice a thin, hairline crack The hum of a low-flying plane fills the room Silence blots out silence as I start to lace up yer shoes And I ask the dark of the empty doorway, has it come to this? Soft like birds with wings of linen, your memory circles round Time is heavy, weighed out, measured, thick though void of sound The tick of the second-hand fills the room And silence blots out silence as I sigh and lace up my shoes I ask the dark of the empty doorway, has it come to this? And a sigh fills the space between the tips of our toes Silence blots out silence with time still as if it had froze And I ask you standing there dark in the doorway, has it come to this?